


Protective Nature

by silverneko9lives0



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst and Humor, Bromance, Comedy, Courtship, Crack, Dwalin thinks Thorin's an Idiot, Dwarf Courting, Hobbit Courting, Humor, Irresponsible Monarch, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romance, Some angst, Stalking, Thorin is OOC, Thorin is funny what the fuck?!, Unwanted attention, unadulterated fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-24
Updated: 2014-10-24
Packaged: 2018-02-14 11:43:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2190414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverneko9lives0/pseuds/silverneko9lives0
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone survives the BOTFA and Bilbo stays in Erebor. However, it seems that all the nobles suddenly want to seduce Bilbo and not all of them have honorable intentions. Dwalin may just be the Captain of the Guard, but he'll be damned if he allows anyone to hurt their Burglar. He makes it his unofficial job to chase off any unsavory characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It seemed, more often than not, that the best method to scare off anyone who’d want to harm their burglar was for Dwalin to stand right behind him and scowl.

 There was something about Hobbits that was generally attractive. Domestic, hard working, genteel personalities, fairy-like appearance, the odd quality of hair on their feet…who’d _not_ want a Hobbit?

Their appealing nature was not lost on the other races. Men and Elves alike had also taken to staring at Bilbo, appreciating the exotic thing that was a Hobbit and Bilbo—he wasn’t _naïve_ , but he certainly wasn’t translating everyone’s interest in him correctly.

If he was, the need to dog his steps when around the noble class would not be needed. Even _Dain_ had tried to make a pass at Bilbo. Bilbo had politely declined without knowing what exactly he declined to, but it didn’t stop the Lord from staring at Bilbo’s bum as he walked away with a smile Dwalin would have _loved_ to wipe off his face.

Regardless that it was rare enough for Dwarves to wed outside of their race (same as Men and Elves, and, apparently, Hobbits) it was possible and Dwalin was learning that it wasn’t just Dain. Bilbo would obliviously flirt with other Lords who were anything BUT oblivious. A few even cornered the poor Hobbit against the wall and if not for Dwalin’s appearance at the nick of time, who’d know what would happen.

One late night, Dwalin bemoaned this concern to Thorin, who snorted.

“You could just ask Bilbo to have a drink with you. Since the others are beating about the bush with wordplay, be direct. The best way to make it clear you’ve intentions of courting Bilbo would be to just _ask_. I’ll be sad to see your mooning end, though. It’s entertaining in this dull void of paperwork.” Thorin jerked his thumb toward the pile of parchments awaiting his attention.

“That’s all well and all,” Dwalin replied, “but I’m _not_ in love with him.”

Thorin scoffed. “Could’ve fooled me. Still, that’s a guaranteed way to get anyone who wants to tup our Hobbit to keep their hands off him.”

“Could you not say tup?”

“Would you rather I say coitus?” Dwalin glowered at the King. “No? Copulation, then? What about fuck?”

“At times like these, the resemblance you have with your nephews is uncanny.”

“Fornicate?”

Dwalin threw an embroidered, beaded pillow at his friend’s head and made for the door.

“I got it! Nooky!”

Dwalin slammed the door behind him then, growling back to his house. He wasn’t prudish—Dwalin was the _last_ one to ever be called a prude—and it wasn’t hard to _want_ to _fornicate_ with Bilbo. The company had discussed how comely Bilbo was before when the Hobbit was out of earshot many times before.

To the point where he was let in too far into Dori’s own personal fantasies. Not a place Dwalin wanted or needed to know about.

He entered his house and was ready to collapse on the couch when rapping at his door called him back to the front door. Bilbo smiled up at him.

“Sorry I’m late, Honey. I forgot the time and then realized I forgot the key,” he walked inside. Dwalin glanced around, spying a pair of Dwarrows glowering at him. Dwalin glared back and they backed away, deciding to try their luck elsewhere. Dwalin shut the door.

“I really am sorry, Dwalin,” Bilbo said. “They wouldn’t stop pestering me and before I knew it, I had this lie tumbling out about how we were married—”

“It’s fine,” Dwalin said. “Would you like me to walk you home? Keep anyone else off your back?” Bilbo nodded. Dwalin grabbed his cloak, pulling it over his shoulders again. He followed Bilbo out the door. “Why were you out so late anyway?”

“I went drinking with Bofur. Never again! He’s probably passed out by now. On the way home, those two propositioned me. If I had Sting on me I’d have given them a piece of my mind! As it was, my sword’s at home and you just popped into my head. I hope it is okay.”

“No,” Dwalin assured him. “I’d rather you come here if you’re in a tight spot like that. P’raps I should go with you next time.”

Bilbo stared at him as they both processed what had just tumbled out of Dwalin’s mouth. Bilbo laughed. “Or perhaps I should just make you dinner tomorrow night instead. Would that be fair?”

“Aye. It would be.”

Most of the walk was silent, allowing Dwalin to study Bilbo some more. Bronze curls bounced just above his pointed ears. Bilbo had traded his Hobbity attire for Dwarven—minus the boots—for the sake of convenience, but still dressed in bright colors.

_He really does have a fine arse. Can’t blame Dain or the others for staring._

Dwalin shook the thought aside, angry with himself for continuing to have objectifying thoughts about Bilbo. He wondered if it would matter if it were Bilbo or any other Hobbit.

He was not the same. Not many knew that. They still saw someone soft and domestic. Others, namely in the company, knew how brave and devious Bilbo could be when put to task.

Bilbo stopped outside his house, unlocking the door. “Thank you, Dwalin. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dwalin nodded. “Goodnight, Bilbo.”

Bilbo grinned. “Goodnight.”

#

Thorin was hiding from Balin. Again.

“You _knew_ this would happen when we took back the mountain, Thorin,” Dwalin reminded him. “So _why_ are you skimping your duties.”

“I’m not skimping _per say_ ,” Thorin said, throwing a ball in the air and catching it. “I do my work, but running a kingdom requires a break. _Weekly_. Balin won’t give me one, so I have to resort to…well…you know. What are you doing?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re braiding your hair. Even though there really isn’t much _to_ braid left.”

“Shut it.”

“Did you finally take my advice and ask Bilbo if he’d let you court him? About time!”

“It’s just dinner!”

“So it’s just beginning.” Thorin smirked. “When you start sleeping with the Hobbit, I want details.”

“You’ll get my fist,” Dwalin snarled. “King or not.”

“Hmph. Touchy.”

Quick raps at the door had Thorin rolling off the couch and hiding behind it. Dwalin answered the door to see a rather irate Balin.

“Thorin is missing,” he growled. “Do you know where he is?”

“Not a clue,” Dwalin said, pointing at the couch.

“Are you sure?” Balin asked, smirking, standing on one side of the couch. Dwalin on the other. “Because he normally goes to you when he wants to avoid work. Or goes to the forges. I checked there already and he’s not there.”

“Really? Well, I can’t tell you more, Balin. I don’t know where he is.”

They pulled the couch away and Balin seized Thorin’s ear. “OW! Dwalin, I’ll have you for treachery!”

“Have fun at work.”

“Smithing was more productive than—ow! Balin, you’re going to rip my ear off.”

“Come on then, you overgrown brat! Mahal’s hammers, your nephews are more mature than you’ve been lately.” Dwalin figured that was because the princes took more after their no nonsense mother but dared not mention it. Besides, he was enjoying the scene before him too much to interrupt it.

Regardless of Thorin’s immense boredom and inability to sit still long enough to be a proper political head, he was a good king. True, he was a better smith admittedly, but he did his best and it was nice to see him relaxed compared to how stern he had been most of his life.

He finished braiding his hair back and thought about whether to add a braid or two to his beard, opting against it. Dwalin grabbed his cloak and locked the door behind him before heading to Bilbo’s house.

His mouth watered at the thought of Bilbo’s cooking. He only tried it once, but he remembered that, despite being small, it was wonderful. He hadn’t had much of a chance to try anything Bilbo made since. That, Dwalin thought happily, would soon be remedied.

He hoped there were biscuits for later.

_Stop thinking about food, damn it!_

Once at Bilbo’s house, he stared at the various boxes around the door and knocked. Bilbo opened the door, looking slightly harried despite his grin.

“Sorry about the mess. A few too many nobles have been stopping by lately. Not a single one knows how to wax poetry properly.”

“Not for one it,” Dwalin said, stepping over the boxes. “You going to take them.”

“Is there a way to tell them I’m simply not interested in _any_ of them? Maybe I can get Thorin to convince them to leave me alone.”

“I’m not sure that’d work, but you could try,” Dwalin said. “Not that he would. He’s a good king, you know, but…”

“Now that he actually has to do the job after all this time, it’s not sitting well with him?” Bilbo asked. “I know. He comes by frequently enough in hopes that I’d hide him from Balin. Maybe we should ask Balin to lighten up on him a bit.”

Dwalin laughed, following Bilbo into the kitchen. “Seriously? You think that’d work?”

“Well, I consider Balin a dear friend and you’re his brother,” Bilbo said, smiling at him. “He might have listen to the both of us if we ask. Please, sit! I hope you don’t mind chicken casserole.”

“Perhaps,” Dwalin said. “And I love chicken. Except, what’s a casserole?”

Bilbo blinked, smile dying a little. “You’ve never had a casserole before?”

“First time I’ve heard of it.”

Bilbo’s smile returned brighter than ever. “You’re in for a treat then.” He turned toward the oven and Dwalin forced the blood to leave his face before Bilbo looked at him again. Taking a breath, he felt relaxed again and watched Bilbo set a platter on the table.

Dwalin stared at it. It looked almost like rectangular pie with bread crumbs on top until he let Bilbo scoop him a serving. Dwalin pointed out noodles, chicken, red pepper slices, and spots of black pepper. Dwalin spotted onions, corn, peas…

He didn’t expect much, but he tried it anyway.

If Bilbo made the vegetables, then he’d eat them, and he told the Hobbit as much. The pleased grin on Bilbo’s face was worth it.


	2. Chapter 2

“And after?” Thorin asked. He laid on Dwalin’s couch, arms splayed over the arm rest while Dwalin organized—well, more _tried to_ organize—schedules for the guard.

Dwalin couldn’t decide if he was amused or annoyed. It was somewhere in between. He knew that much. He had an idea what Thorin expected to hear, but at the same time, it really wasn’t Thorin’s business to ask about the dinner Dwalin had with Bilbo.

“We had tea,” he said.

“And?” Thorin pressed.

“We talked.”

“And _after that_?”

“I went home.”

Thorin groaned, pressing his head against the armrest. “Maker damn it, Dwalin!”

“What? The food was worth the exaggeration,” Dwalin said, smirking at him.

“I fucking hate you.”

“Thorin, I’m not jumping into bed with him after one dinner.”

“Anyone else would have,” Thorin said, voice muffled into the fabric. “Dori especially, shudder the thought.” Dwalin agreed. He was an each to their own kind of guy, but he didn’t think Bilbo would appreciate Dori’s kinks.

“Did you at least arrange another date?” Thorin asked, lifting his head up.

“Another _dinner_ ,” Dwalin snapped. “We’re not courting.”

“Best get on that before someone else decides to jump and ask Bilbo if they could court him. Who knows? He might say yes.”

“Several do it daily,” Dwalin said, gnashing his teeth. “The front of his house is littered in unopened boxes just left there.”

“Unopened?” Thorin asked, grinning. “Left there?”

“He doesn’t really know what to do with all these gifts. I agreed to help him go about rejecting them properly. Not sure how they’d take it.”

“Probably not very well,” Thorin said. He sighed dramatically. “The woes of having a Hobbit in the mountain…everyone wants one, but there’s _only_ one.”

“If they want a Hobbit so bad, they can go find one they like in the bloody Shire,” Dwalin said, setting the quill down before he broke it, “Whole nation of them there.”

Thorin arched a brow and stood up. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course not!”

“Yeah, you are.”

“Thorin, half the mountain thinks he stays for you.”

Thorin scoffed. “I’m sorry. I already have my One.”

“I know. He’s a bloody nuisance.”

“Oi, at least if you fail me, I can count on Nori to save my ass.”

“Again,” Dwalin said. The day Thorin met Nori was not a pleasant day for Dwalin. True, Thorin had still been more morose then given how tired and stressed he was, but meeting the thief only seemed to bring Thorin out of his brooding long enough to court him.

Having a One, of course, didn’t stop either of them from entertaining thoughts of inviting Bilbo to their bed and discussing it over the fire…but in the end, they agreed not to act on it when Gandalf alerted them to how Hobbits loved. Hobbits, the wizard had said, love completely and fully. They’re not promiscuous nor do they entertain more than one lover at a time. The connection they have with the partner they have is very much like the connection between Ones—spiritual and physical, all consuming…

But they didn’t have Ones and could, if they wished, find another if their significant other either left or passed away. Most simply chose not to. Sex was pleasurable activity, and shared openly between a pair until they fell in love, if they fell in love with someone else. 

In many ways, Hobbits and Dwarves weren’t that different. Except they differed far more than any of the Dwarves guessed when it came to courtship. Those secrets Gandalf refused to reveal because he “did not trust any of them not to tease Bilbo with his own cultural upbringing.” As if they’d dare! Well, at least Dwalin wouldn’t. He really couldn’t speak for Nori, Bofur, Fili, or Kili. (Technically he didn’t have to worry much about Nori. Thorin had a decent leash on him.)

“You know, if you told him you were interested in courting him, he might tell you how Hobbits go about it,” Thorin said. “As King, I give you permission to teach him how Dwarves court too.”

“How kind of you,” Dwalin said, reviewing the schedule he created. “Don’t you have a kingdom to run? I think you’re due to be in the council room in fifteen minutes, last I knew.”

Thorin snorted. “It’s Thranduil. I don’t care if I’m late for _that_.”

Dwalin hummed. “Balin does.”

“You’d sell me out to your brother again?”

“He is my brother.”

“I’m your shield brother! Our bond transcends blood!”

Dwalin looked at him. Anyone who said Thorin’s nephews were nothing like him clearly do not know their king very well. Dwalin leaned back. “Thorin, Balin is my _elder_ brother.”

“I know that! So am I!”

“Then as an older brother yourself, you are familiar with the term ‘blackmail.’ Correct?”

“He has something on you?”

“He has _many things_ on me. Most of which he started for the sole reason of having something on me. Balin is as evil as they come.”

Thorin winced. “He’s your Dis, then? I didn’t know. You poor thing.”

Dwalin decided not to remind Thorin that Dis wouldn’t care about using information against Thorin to get him to do her bidding. She’d tell anyone who’d listen anyway. As frightening as she could be, Dwalin couldn’t tell if Dis was more vindictive than Balin or not. He could say that Balin had adopted a…capitalist mindset when it came to his relationship with Dwalin. All in all, Dwalin’s brother was nasty, evil, and all around more frightening that Dis ever could be.

Anyone else’s opinion notwithstanding.

Rapid knocks pounded on the door and Dwalin sighed. “Speak of the balrog and he will come,” he mumbled. Dwalin grabbed Thorin’s arm before he could find a hiding spot. Dwalin answered the door.

“Looking for a king?” he asked Balin, handing Thorin to him.

“If you were not the king, I’d have your beard if it was long enough for all the trouble you give me!” Balin growled, fisting Thorin’s tunic.

“Have fun annoying the Elves,” Dwalin called at them. Thorin replied with a rude gesture. Dwalin chuckled and retreated back into his house and checked to make sure the ink was dry before heading to the guard house.

#

Dwalin stared at the note set on his desk. Bilbo shifted uncomfortably in the chair across from him, staring at his hands.

“I can’t read it, but it was nailed to my door sometime last night,” he said. “I figured that might not be a good thing.” Dwalin scanned the message again, frowning.

 ** _YOU’LL REGRET SCORNING ME_** had been written on the parchment in harsh runes.

He was seething, though he hoped he hid his anger well enough so not to frighten Bilbo. Oh, there was always something like this happening. Someone thought another was his or her One and they weren’t so they’d come on stronger and stronger until they were completely obsessed to the point of being a danger to the person they claimed to love. Dwalin had seen horrible things before and usually could distance himself from it. They weren’t affecting him. But the moment someone went after a friend or family, well, no one could say he didn’t try to control himself.

“It’s not,” Dwalin said. Bilbo bit his lip and his brow creased with worry. “Bilbo, do you have any suitors who have been persistent or have in some way acted violently toward you?”

“Um…there’s a couple of Dwarves in Thorin’s court that have come onto me a bit strong. No one I know personally, though.”

“Could you give me names?”

“Drumin son of Alvrik,” Bilbo said, “And Mangnun son of Thingrim are the only two who wouldn’t leave me alone after I told them I wasn’t interested in them. Well, everyone hasn’t, but most just send me gifts that I really don’t know what to do with nor know how to make it clear that I’m not joking around about not being interested in them.”

Dwalin hummed, writing the names down. “But those two have kept approaching you in person?” Bilbo nodded. Dwalin sighed. “The next few questions will be awkward, but I need to know a few things about how Drumin and Mangnum might have treated you when you’re around them. Such as whether they’ve…” Dwalin swallowed. “Whether they’ve touched you or tried to…hurt you.”

Bilbo nodded. “Um, yes to touching me without permission. I’ve told both of them to back off, even threatened to get the guard if they wouldn’t stop. But no. They’ve not ‘hurt’ me. Not yet at least. Hopefully it won’t come to that. Right?”

Dwalin nodded. “Would you like to stay with one of the company until whoever sent this letter is caught? I can arrange for you to stay with…” Dwalin paused. He didn’t think any of the company would dare send something like this to Bilbo. He hated suspecting friends, but he knew they also be suspects. He almost wanted to say _with me_ but thought better of it. “With one of us.”

He’d figure out who among the company was most trustworthy later.

Bilbo grinned. “I’d like that. Who do you have in mind?”

“Not sure yet,” he said, standing. He glanced around, looking for a Dwarf who’d be willing to stay with Bilbo during Dwalin’s investigation. Someone he knew he could trust…

Given all the blushing and staring directed at Bilbo from most of Dwalin’s men, it didn’t look like there were many. There was _one_ , however, who wasn’t eying Bilbo with some variation of lust.

“Fregar!” Dwalin called. The Dwarrowdam scurried over and saluted.

“Yes, Captain?”

“You are his guard.” He ignored Bilbo’s sputtering protests. “Escort Master Baggins to his house to gather his things. I’d like you both back here in three hour’s time and no longer for further instructions.”

“Yes, sir!”

“Is that really necessary?”

Dwalin hummed. “I’d do it myself, but I can’t guard you and find out who left this note at the same time. It’s only for a couple days at the most.”

Bilbo crossed his arms and tapped his foot against the stone. He sighed. “If it’s really necessary, then fine. But I can protect myself, you know.”

“Think of it as having someone around who has your back,” Dwalin said. Bilbo looked at Fregar.

“Shall we go?” she asked tentatively. Bilbo nodded and they left.

Dwalin glared at the note and vowed to find the bastard who sent it. He stretched, reminding himself that he needed to act professionally. _Time for work._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What the heck?! This is supposed to be a comedy! Why is there a threatening stalker here?! 
> 
> Don't worry, it shouldn't get worse than some harassment and threatening notes. If it does, I'll have to change the tags or add new ones...


	3. Chapter 3

Drumin looked around the room once or twice, but mostly just kept his gaze on the table in front of him while Dwalin spoke. He was young, a little older than Kili, maybe. His red hair was pulled back into a six strand braid.

“I didn’t send Master Baggins any notes recently,” Drumin said, finally meeting Dwalin’s gaze, “And I’d not nail it to his door. If I was upset with him, I’d talk to him.”

“Would you grab him?”

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But only if he wasn’t listening…I don’t want to hurt him! I love him. He’s my One. I’m sure of it.”

Dwalin pinched the bridge of his nose. _Well I doubt it’s this fool…_

“You believe me, right?”

Dwalin said nothing. He did believe him, but a gut intuition was never good enough for him. Knowing in your gut was not the same as actually knowing. “Where were you last night?”

“Home asleep, mostly, but before that, I was at the pub.”

“For how long?”

“A couple hours,” Drumin said. “We went home around midnight.”

“Is there anyone you can name that was there?”

“A couple friends, a barmaid or two, the owner…”

“How about your friends,” Dwalin said. “Are any of them admirers of Master Baggins like yourself?”

“Rorek son of Barek,” Drumin said. “But he’s too nervous to do more than send Bil—Master Baggins gifts, you see?”

“Has he sent letters?”

“Everyone has at some point. I can’t say whether they all left names though.” Drumin lowered his eyes again, staring at the table. Dwalin sighed. He was still very much a kid. Probably a friend of the princes.

“You can go home,” he said, leading Drumin out. He approached Lord Alvrik. “Keep him available for further interrogation.”

Alvrik nodded and steered Drumin out. Dwalin turned to the others, still searching the boxes and notes that had been left on Bilbo’s doorstep. He approached. “How’s the search going?”

Yori grinned. “Some of the letters get a little more violent. We’re matching the letters with certain handwriting and Kazi is putting together a possible profile of the stalker.”

“I’ll look at that when it’s done,” he agreed. “And Master Baggins?”

“Still with Fregar and Master Bofur,” he said.

He opened another box and whistled, taking out a jewel encrusted fan. Sapphires and emeralds dotted the silver handles. When opened, the silk fabric depicted the adventure from beginning to end. _I admire your bravery_ was the message within the fan, and outward, it aimed to find a balance between Bilbo’s domestic nature and his intelligence. The gold attributed to Bilbo’s success on the quest.

All in all, it was a lovely gift.

“These suitors of his do know how to spoil someone.”

“Hobbits court differently than we do,” Dwalin said. “It’s likely Master Baggins feels that these gifts are more akin to being bought or bargained.” He certainly wouldn’t know the context of such a gift.

Yori winced. “Well, that wouldn’t do. Do you know how they court?”

“No,” Dwalin said. “But I doubt it’s with gold and jewels.” He did have a guess it might have more to do with flowers or food. But he really couldn’t say. “Where’s Mangnum? Is he here yet?”

“Not yet,” Yori said, opening the accompanying note. “He should be here soon, though.” He set the note down, wrote something on a slip of paper, and added it to a growing pile of gifts and notes already opened. “I’ve not seen anyone this adamant about courting someone other than the Ri brothers.”

Dwalin winced. He couldn’t say he pitied Dori—just his suitors—but Ori? The kid didn’t deserve this.

“Do they get stalkers too?”

“Oh, no,” Yori said. “Masters Dori and Nori are too frightening for anyone to try, I think. But I think there was someone who went after the younger brother when he started his apprenticeship. It didn’t last long though. I think the king got involved that time. He lost his beard and was banished from the Seven Kingdoms on pain of death. I almost feel sorry for that Dwarf.”

Of course Thorin would get involved. Ori was his brother just as much as Nori’s. One of these days, he’ll have to announce that he already found his One. Damn Nori and his penchant for keeping secrets.

“Well, I think the Ris have a handle on their own suitors,” Dwalin said. He could see it too. Beautiful as they may be, Nori and Dori were scary.

“Look at this!” Yori said, pulling out a diamond brooch, resembling a star. “Gorgeous. Rather bold, but still gorgeous.”Bold indeed. Diamonds represent pure love and innocence. A woman likely sent it. Dwalin crossed his arms and repressed a growl.

“Let me know when Mangnum gets here.”

“Yes, Sir,” Yori said, saluting him with a cheeky grin.

#

“How’s the investigation going?” Bilbo asked, setting a plate on the table.

“Well enough,” Dwalin said. “But the suspect list is…”

“Long?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry about that,” Bilbo said.

“Did you intend to get this many suitors?”

“Absolutely not!”

“Then there’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Except maybe for being so damn cute,” Bofur said with a wink. Dwalin smacked the back of his head and Bilbo arched a brow at him. “What? It’s true.”

“ _Even so, we had a pact not to flirt with Bilbo or tease him_ ,” Bifur snapped. “ _Remember that_?”

“Yes, yes, I remember,” Bofur sighed, waving his cousin off. “But we can’t deny whoever Bilbo does decide to court— _if_ he decides to court—will at the very least be well fed.”

Bilbo returned with a steaming plate of fresh, nut bread and a butter plate. “If I do court, it will be me who initiates. That much is certain what with how many suitors are lined up. Yavanna above knows I never had this problem in the Shire!”

“They didn’t find you comely,” Bofur asked.

“Oh, it’s not that. I was just…odd, I guess you could say,” Bilbo said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I fancied men my whole life, but I did notice that’s not such a problem among Dwarves…right?”

“Course it’s not!” Bofur said. “Love is love, no matter where it comes from. We knew Men were a bit backwards in that way, but for goodness sakes, Hobbits _too_?!”

“I’m afraid so,” Bilbo said, smiling. “And Elves…”

Bofur threw his hands up and shook his head. “Thank Mahal we’re the ones who got a lick of sense!”

“You were ostracized?” Dwalin asked.

“Yes,” Bilbo said. “Too many think it was part of my Took side that made me fancy blokes, but even then no one was sure.”

“Nah, it’s just how you are,” Bofur said. “There are people who either are or aren’t and some are in between. We’ve Dwarves around here born as male, but prefer to be female and vice versa. It’s just how they are. No Dwarf is daft to make them conform to what they were born as if it’s not who they are.”

Bilbo looked relieved and slowly his expression was shifting to grateful and his eyes shone. “Thank you,” he said. “I needed to hear that.”

“Any time,” Bofur said. “I’ll be there to help you up when you’re down and after which trip you just for kicks.” Bilbo nodded.

“That sounds about right,” Bilbo sighed, heading back into the kitchen. “But if you trip me, it’ll be a declaration of war and trust me, you do _not_ want an angry Hobbit going after you.” Bofur laughed, sliding off his seat.

Dwalin ignored him and followed Bilbo. “Are you and Fregar getting along?”

“Actually we are,” Bilbo said, pulling out the roast beef. “She showed me some of her knitting. Very talented, and her partner’s sweet.”

Relief spread through him. “Good.” Bilbo spread a sauce onto the roast and pushed it back into the oven. “I’m glad.”

“You think it could be someone among the company?” Bilbo asked. “My stalker, I mean?”

“Well, I hope not,” Dwalin said. “But I can’t rule anyone out at this point. As I said, the list is long. It could take a while to get through it. They wrote you in Khuzdul, but you couldn’t know how to read it.”

“I don’t think they cared. I think they wanted me scared, is all.”

“It’s possible. But we’re paying most attention to those who wrote you in Khuzdul.”

“Is there no way to tell who it is through their handwriting?”

“The runes are rather uniform,” Dwalin said. “It’d be difficult to tell one person’s handwriting from another. Still, why send a message to someone when the recipient can’t read it?”

“Could it just be a prank?” Bilbo asked.

Dwalin wished he could assure Bilbo that it was a stupid joke in poor taste. But it wasn’t that simple. “I’m afraid it was a rather clear threat,” he said.

Bilbo frowned and crossed his arms. “Why?” he asked. “I never did anything to warrant this!”

“I’m afraid anything, even something harmless, can set a stalker off. They’re fueled by a belief, sometimes an emotion, in this case, it’s love or lust—Stalkers are usually obsessed with their victim. And obsession is dangerous.”

“I know,” Bilbo said. “I’ve seen what obsession can wrought, if you’ve forgotten.” The Arkenstone had been returned to the mountain where it belonged after the battle. With the realization that he had become his grandfather, no matter how brief, Thorin had been both frightened and devastated. He sent the stone away never to be unearthed again.

Nori had thanked Bilbo for his help, but the threat of madness still haunted Thorin.

“I think the roast is done,” Bilbo said automatically.

He took the food out and smiled at Dwalin. It was fake, and they both knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bofur explaining sexuality…it makes sense and at the same time it doesn’t…so let me clear up what he’s saying: he tells Bilbo he’s who he’s supposed to be and that no one has the right to tell him differently. The ultimate decision of who you are as a person is left to *you* and no one else has any say in what your sex is or what your sexuality should be.


	4. Chapter 4

It’d been days since anything happened. They narrowed the suspect list down a bit as the investigation continued, but Dwalin was getting irritated by the pace. How could one Hobbit gather so many blasted suitors in a matter of months?! Dwalin didn’t understand it. Oh, there was no doubt Bilbo was desirable. It was more the integrity of his suitors that had Dwalin grinding his teeth.

Besides, most of them should’ve given up. But several had claimed to legitimately love him. Dwalin got a few Dwarves to admit that they were more interested in having Bilbo as a bed mate and he “convinced” them to knock it off.

He believed he did a suitable job at it.

Dwalin stroked his beard as he reviewed Kazi’s profile.

_Middle aged. Wealthy. Lonely or lives alone with no family. Likely knew Master Baggins wouldn’t know Khuzdul. Probably believes Bilbo is his One…_

He sighed, pinching his nose. It wasn’t helpful at _all_. Kazi was a good profiler, but Dwalin could’ve guessed all this in his sleep. To add, many of Bilbo’s suitors believed Bilbo was their One and many of _them_ were in fact lonely.

“Dwalin?” He looked up at Bilbo. Fregar was talking to Kazi. His brow was furrowed and his mouth bent into a frown. “I got this in the mail. There’s no note.” Dwalin stared at the parcel. On the top of the box was Bilbo’s name written in Cirth.

He took the box and Bilbo followed him over to Yori, who stared at it.

“Seriously? Another one?” he asked.

He took it and opened the box. Flies flew out of the box. A foul smell emitted from it. They peered inside. Bilbo covered his mouth and looked away. It was old, rotting fruit with flies and maggots. Dwalin led him outside and Bilbo braced himself against the wall, heaving.

“It’s all right if you need to vom,” Dwalin said.

Bilbo shook his head. “That was disgusting,” he said, still gasping for air. “What kind of person would…” Dwalin rubbed his back, holding his anger in check at the distress marring Bilbo’s face. Whoever the stalker was, Dwalin was going to give him _hell_.

“Bilbo, did it go to your house?” Dwalin asked.

“It was on Bofur’s doorstep. But…only the Company and the guards know I’m staying at Bofur’s.”

It went _there_? Dwalin glanced at the guardhouse. He’d hate to suspect his friends or the men under him, but Bilbo was right. No one but the guards and the Company knew Bilbo was staying with Bofur and Bifur. If they knew he was there, then who would it be?

“Now what?” Bilbo asked.

 _That is a very good question_ , Dwalin thought, crossing his arms. If Bofur and Bifur’s house isn’t safe anymore—and Dwalin was _certain_ he could trust them. They loved Bilbo like he was their own. He still trusted them, of course…but…who else was there in the company he could trust?

Bombur had returned to the Blue Mountains to help bring his family back home, so he was out.

Oin, Gloin, and his family? Gimli kind of made moon eyes at Bilbo a little too much.

The Ris? Dori would be a fair protector, but Dwalin didn’t trust him with Bilbo. At all.

Balin? Somehow that just made Dwalin want to snap a tree in half and beat his brother over the head with it.

The royal family? Dwalin shook his head. He’d hate to think what Those four would do. Fili and Kili would make it into a bigger show than necessary. Thorin would administer a curfew and Nori…

 _Well, let’s not think on that_ , Dwalin thought. “You’ll stay with me,” he said. Bilbo blinked at him. “That is if you don’t mind.”

Bilbo shook his head, eyes wide and his tongue swiped over his lips. _Why did he have to lick his lips?_ “I don’t mind,” he said.

Dwalin was not blushing. His face was red from righteous anger against the Dwarf stalking Bilbo. It had nothing to do with how adorable Bilbo was. Nope.

He cleared his throat. “Fregar and I will take you to Bofur’s so you can gather your things.”

“Okay.”

#

Yori handed him the new suspect list. “This sucks,” he muttered. “I can’t believe anyone who knows him would want to hurt Master Baggins.”

“You and me both,” Dwalin muttered, staring at the list. He’d need to interrogate the singles in the company. No one was going to like that! He didn’t like it, but they knew him well enough to know their word wouldn’t be enough. At least he hoped they knew that.

Did anyone know how many _singles_ were in the company? Beside Bombur, Thorin, Nori, and Gloin? To add, there were five guards who had attempted courting Bilbo already. Including Kazi.

Dwalin turned to Kazi. He gave a short nod and went back to writing whatever report he was meant to be working on. Dwalin reviewed the list again. Kazi was on the new list. And he was also a part of the team. Kazi wouldn’t…would he?

“Did you not think it odd that Kazi was one of Master Baggins’ suitors?” Dwalin asked.

“I do think it’s odd,” Yori said. “I’ve not had the chance to talk to him about it, though.”

“Good, tell him I’d like a word, but be natural about it. I don’t want him to suspect anything yet.”

“Do you think it’s him?”

“I _think_ it’s strange that the stalker knew where Master Baggins had been staying and still dared to threaten him despite being under our protection.”

Yori nodded and approached Kazi. Kazi smiled at him, glanced at Dwalin, and nodded. He approached Dwalin’s desk, hands behind his back. “You wanted to speak with me, sir?”

“Yes,” Dwalin said. He stood and led Kazi to the interrogation room.

“Sir?”

“Have a seat,” Dwalin said. Kazi did not. He crossed his arms over his chest. Well, fine.

“What is this about, Captain?”

“Well I’m not sure,” Dwalin said. “You’re a trusted guardsman. Your profiles are often top notch. Very well done. Except the one on Master Baggins’ stalker was rather generic. Most of it was what I could’ve guessed in my sleep. It was shoddy.”

“My apologies, Sir. I’ll write up a new—”

“I don’t want a new profile, Kazi,” Dwalin said. “I want to know why you decided it was appropriate to threaten Master Baggins.”

Kazi’s arms dropped and his pallor turned grey. “I didn’t,” he lied. “I don’t even know Mr. Baggins that well—”

“A lot of his so called suitors _don’t_ ,” Dwalin said. “Being a guard, I figured you would’ve known Bilbo would come here to report the crime. As well as bring any additional gifts that may show up. He may not be a Dwarf, but he’s smarter than he is pretty to look at and deserves far more respect than he’s been getting from the lot! What baffles me is that you _also_ were a suitor. You ever talk to him?”

Kazi shook his head.

“I didn’t think so.” Yori entered with a stack of papers. “What’s this? Everything Kazi sent to Master Baggins?”

“Yes, Sir. Thought it’d be useful. I compared some of the writing with the note that was nailed to Mr. Baggins’ door. The strokes…the strokes match.

“You look over them?” Yori nodded. He didn’t look pleased. Dwalin thumbed through them. The letters were in Khuzdul. They were dated and steadily grew more deranged. Yori guarded the door as Dwalin flipped through them.

Kazi shifted his eyes from Yori to Dwalin to the windows. “Sir, if I may—”

“You may not,” Dwalin growled. “Lad, you threatened a member of the King’s Company. A trusted advisor to Thorin Oakenshield. “What I _don’t_ understand is why you thought Bilbo wouldn’t think it suspicious if he found a letter nailed to the door. Why ‘scorn’? Had Bilbo done something to anger you? Or did it just sound nice?”

Kazi sneered. “Why would it matter? He didn’t know what I was writing anyway. He is a Halfling. Why would it matter? That he’s getting this much attention despite being an _outsider_ …”

Dwalin’s blood boiled. His hands curled into fists, itching to grab his warhammer. If only he’d not left it back at his desk!

He stood and Kazi silenced, mouth clamping shut. “Kazi son of Throbbi, your under arrest for criminal harassment and conspiracy to murder.” Kazi ran for the door, shoving Yori aside. Yori and Dwalin seized him and pinned his arms behind his back.

They led him to a cell and chained him to the wall. Once they left, Yori sighed.

“I never thought it’d be one of us,” he said. Dwalin agreed. It never got easier when the culprit was a guard. “So…it’s safe for Master Baggins again?”

“For now,” Dwalin said.

#

“Does Thorin usually hide at your house when he’s supposed to be working?” Bilbo asked. Dwalin spotted him at the table, eating cookies. Dwalin was sure those were his.

“Sadly.”

“I work,” Thorin protested.

“You could tell Balin to lighten up on you,” Dwalin said.

“He would too,” Bilbo agreed. Thorin waved them off.

“Speaking of work, I found your stalker,” Dwalin told Bilbo.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Bilbo embraced him. “Thank you!” he said. “You’ve no idea how much that means to me!” Dwalin actually had an idea. He patted Bilbo’s back awkwardly.

“Has he been arrested?” Thorin asked.

“Of course he has! What do you take me for? Chopped liver.”

“Well I do wonder. Anyway, that’s good.” Thorin grabbed another cookie. “I want to sentence the _rukh_. I’ll have Balin schedule it in when I see him next. Been a while since I banished someone. Or should I go with a beheading this time?” Bilbo glared at him. “I’m kidding!”

“That’s not amusing, Thorin,” Bilbo snapped.

“Nori would’ve laughed.”

“Yes, well, I’m not Nori.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dialogue in are in Khuzdul

Dwalin squeezed Bilbo’s shoulder as they approached the courthouse. Thorin met them outside the doors, straightening his furs. He wasn’t smiling. “Feeling all right, Master Baggins?” Thorin asked. Bilbo twitched a little and nodded. Dwalin decided not to remind Bilbo that he barely ate from nerves.

“What exactly am I supposed to do here?” Bilbo asked.

“All you need to do is tell me and the jury about your… _admirer’s_ threat,” Thorin said. “You might not know Khuzdul, but we do, his letters will be presented, read aloud, for which I apologize, but it must be done. Dwalin will tell them how he discovered the accused, and about the arrest. After that, the accused will have a chance to defend himself. I myself cannot make any verdicts, the jury will do that and I will name his punishment. After that, someone will carry out the punishment. Normally, it’d be you as you’re the victim in this crime, Master Baggins, but as you are unaccustomed to our laws, a friend or family member will carry it out for you if you wish.”

“I suppose it would depend on the sentence given,” Bilbo said. Thorin turned to Dwalin.

<Keep him close,> Thorin ordered. <He is your One, after all.>

Dwalin frowned. <He is _not_ my One. >

Thorin scoffed. <Everyone else has noticed that he is. Why haven’t you?> Bilbo looked between them, frowning.

“At least have enough courtesy to speak in Westron to me!” Bilbo snapped.

“Private conversations are easier to carry out in Khuzdul around someone who doesn’t know our language,” Thorin said, “I’m afraid not even I can allow you to learn. At least, not on my own: the other Dwarf Lords must agree with me.”

Bilbo huffed and pouted. Dwalin patted his shoulder in a way he hoped was reassuring to Bilbo. “To be fair, Thorin is trying to convince them to let you learn. It’d be convenient if you could.”

Bilbo nodded. “Bifur would be happy.”

“Aye, he would,” Dwalin agreed.

“Shall we go inside?” Thorin asked.

Dwalin waved his hand, allowing Thorin to lead them inside. The room is shaped as a cylinder, with stone benches carved into the rock, high windows let light pour in, which spread through the room with various mirror’s reflecting the light around the room. Dwalin and Bilbo were moved to sit with the company. All but Nori was present among them. When he asked Dori and Ori, the elder scoffed and the younger shrugged before turning to Bilbo and asking how he was doing. Bilbo managed a weak smile as the room filled with onlookers, most of them were Bilbo’s other suitors, and the jury. Thorin sat in the judge’s seat, tall and regal.

Dwalin glanced at Balin, who shrugged. “He takes his job seriously most of the time.”

“Then why not give him a break?” Bilbo asked.

“Because he’ll eventually just start working again anyway,” Balin said. “Either doing paperwork or maybe go down to the forges. He may be a goof ball at times, but for the most part, but Thorin’s a blasted workaholic.”

Dwalin shook his head. “He’s a blasted idiot, he is,” he said. “Why work when he doesn’t have to? Who does that?”

“Apparently Thorin,” Bilbo said.

The doors opened again and Kazi was led inside before chained in the accused’s seat in the middle of the courtroom, his shackles bound to the chair and floor. Dwalin glanced at Bilbo, who stared at Kazi.

“Isn’t he a guardsman?” he asked Dwalin.

Dwalin stared at him for a moment, wishing Bilbo didn’t look so distressed. “Not anymore,” he said. “No matter what happens after today, he has lost his place in the guard and I will _not_ let him come after you again, Master Baggins.”

Thorin’s voice cut through the noise, echoing off the walls as he named the accused and his crime. Of course, Kazi then pleaded not guilty before Bilbo was called to plead his case.

Dwalin wanted to break his neck. He had confessed! He had threatened Bilbo, and called him an outsider. If he was found innocent, Dwalin would…

 _Vengeance begets vengeance_ , Balin often said. _Don’t let your anger control you to the point where all you seek is that. Justice is not perfect, but it will eventually get it right._

Bilbo told of the time he found the note, written in Khuzdul and nailed to his door then that he took it to the police not because he understood what was written but because nailing something to a person’s door is a rather clear threat. Later, after being advised to live with a friend during the guards’ investigation, he received another package at their doorstep despite that no one was supposed to know he was with this friend. After that, he’d been moved to another location until the time of the trial.

Fregar was called next. She assured the jury that her job was to protect Bilbo and that she had no part in the investigation itself. Had Kazi attacked Bilbo in person before his capture, she would’ve been able to act, but there was little she could do without a physical confrontation.

Lastly, Dwalin was chosen to speak about how he realized it was Kazi and the arrest.

Thorin sent the jury to choose a verdict. They’d return in a day. The guards took Kazi away and Dwalin approached Thorin. “If they find him not guilty—”

“They won’t,” Thorin said. “There is very little he can do against us. He may plead his innocence, but he confessed to _you_ that he did intend to harm our Hobbit. He has his chance to defend himself tomorrow. But I doubt he’ll be able to convince anyone of it. Not with the evidence against him. Had he not confessed his guilt to the arresting guard, then it’d be more difficult for the jury to conclude that it _was_ him and not another. He may twist the words you heard tomorrow, but we shall see if he is clever enough then. However, I’m surprised he did not have a lawyer with him.”

“He opted against having a lawyer,” Dwalin said. “Only explanation. Perhaps he believes he is clever enough to talk his way out of this.”

“Is he?”

“He’s a profiler. He examines the way people act or move. Usually his work’s good, but this time it was terrible! If he meant to lead me astray, it was shoddy work.”

“Could it be someone else?”

“The notes he sent matched the threat. The strokes match.”

“And you’re certain that no one else is after Bilbo?” Thorin asked. “I’ve a hard time believing a good profiler would be able to divert you with a shoddy criminal profile.”

Dwalin glanced at Bilbo. He was deep in conversation with Gloin. <Do you think someone else would go after him?>

Thorin frowned. <Anyone could be. Nori’s been conducting his own investigation, but he said it’s been testing his patience,> he said. <Master Baggins is desirable. We know this. But I fear we’ve underestimated _how_ desirable others might find him. > Dwalin grit his teeth and Thorin squeezed his shoulder. <If you think I’m a fool for noticing that you are the only one who treats him as a person and not an object, fine. I’ll be the fool. But he looks at you and perhaps once there was a sort of fear, now there is respect and admiration. And I see the way you look at him. You think he still fears him and you wish he didn’t. Dwalin, you need to stop holding back and ask him if he’d let you court him. I can think of no one better for our Hobbit. Nor can I think of anyone better for you, my friend. Balin thinks so too. We all do. You’re already very protective of him. He came to you when he felt threatened once. He’ll go to you again. What are you afraid of?>

Dwalin looked at Bilbo again. <I could hurt him.>

<Would you?>

<Not if I can help it.>

<Then _court_ him, > Thorin said. <Before Dori gets fed up and tries to court him for the sake of making you jealous. It would work, too.> Dwalin glared at Thorin’s grin.

<You’re an ass.>

<Don’t let Nori hear you say that. He has it in his head that he’s the only one allowed to insult me.>

#

“Do you really think this’ll end everything?” Bilbo asked, setting a fish platter in front of Dwalin. “I mean, is it really over or will I still be in danger?” Dwalin looked from the food to Bilbo who was worrying his lip with his teeth.

“I can’t say for sure,” Dwalin said. “But for now, I think it’s safe to say you’re safe. And if you aren’t, you know where to find me.”

Bilbo smiled. “That is reassuring, I suppose.” He went back to the kitchen.

“Need help with anything?”

“No, no,” Bilbo said, returning with some baked potatoes. “I’ve got it.”

“Feels wrong, letting you do all this work in my own house.”

“If I’m not bothered, neither should you,” Bilbo said. “Besides, it helps me keep calm. To add, do you even _use_ your kitchen much?” Dwalin winced. He didn’t. He really, _really_ didn’t. Bilbo’s smile widened. “You can’t cook, can you?”

“Simple things, only,” Dwalin said, “Or over a campfire.”

Bilbo sniffed. “Well that won’t do.”

“I’m afraid I can’t match a Hobbit’s appetite.”

“I’m well aware, but that doesn’t mean you can’t enjoy the food I make you—unless you’d rather I not.”

“Why wouldn’t I? The only times I eat this good are when I’m with you or Balin.”

Bilbo hums. “I see.”

“You’re the better cook, if that’s what worries you.”

“Mister Dwalin, the only other cook on _this_ side of the world I worry about is Bombur. Currently, he’s not here, so really, I fear to enter into a cooking contest solely because there is no real _competition_.”

Bilbo retreats to the kitchen once more with a salad and warm breadsticks. Dinner is mostly silent after that and Dwalin almost ignores the salad. He takes some anyway, if only to not insult Bilbo.

It wasn’t as bad as he thought it’d be. Whatever sauce Bilbo put on it masked the salad’s flavor without being too much.

And after they ate, Dwalin insisted on doing the dishes. Bilbo had no choice but to let him help.

If Thorin was here, he’d snap at them for being so domestic and Dwalin bit back a snort at the thought. Him? Domesticated by a Hobbit?

Bilbo dried his hands.

“Thank you for dinner,” Dwalin said. “Again.”

Bilbo grinned. “You’re welcome,” he stretched up, balancing on his toes, and kissed Dwalin’s cheek, barely reaching above his beard. “And thank you for your help,” Bilbo said before retreating to his room. Dwalin touched his cheek, as though marveling at the way his skin tingled where Bilbo’s lips had pressed against it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story got longer than I originally planned it. I hope you're all happy...


	6. Chapter 6

He held the door open for Bilbo as they left the courthouse, the sentence still hanging in the air. Kazi would lose his beard and after he’d be escorted from the mountain, never to set foot in one again. _Exile_ seemed to echo off the stone. Only Bilbo seemed legitimately unfazed by the sentencing.

“I thought he’d be put to death,” he said when Ori inquired. “Or something of that sort.”

“Death would actually be kinder,” Dwalin answered before Ori could open his mouth. The young scribe picked at a loose thread with annoyance.

“But he gets to live,” Bilbo pointed out. "While one lives there is hope for redemption.”

“That is considering if his beard grows back,” Ori said. “Without that, he is without honor even in death. But if his beard doesn’t grow back before he dies, he’ll die without honor.”

“But that does not equate to true redemption,” Dwalin added. “For that to happen, he must first feel remorse for what he did to you.”

“Technically, he only sent some letters,” Bilbo said, meeting Dwalin’s gaze. “He never got as far as to carry out his threats.”

“He could have,” Dwalin pointed out.

Bilbo nodded. “That is true. He could have. But I would rather not focus on something that never came to pass. He never carried them out and that is all that matters to me.”

 _But it is not enough for me,_ Dwalin thought, watching Bilbo leave with Ori. Bofur jumped at them, tackling Ori and Bilbo laughed.

A hand smacked the back of his head and Dwalin turned on Thorin, glaring. <Ask him out already! Mahal on high, it’s getting sad to watch. >

<Mind your own fucking business,> Dwalin snarled, shoving Thorin. <Don’t you have a thief to bugger?>

Thorin smirked at him. <At least I’m getting some.>

Dwalin sighed. He couldn’t say he didn’t walk right into that. He really couldn’t.

#

It would be one thing if they were Dwarflings. Well, they technically were, but they were in that…transition stage between adulthood and childhood. What did Bilbo call them? Tweenagers? Yes, that sounded right. Tweenagers.

Which probably explains why they decided to follow Ori and Bilbo around instead of leave them be. Not that Ori and Bilbo noticed the group walking behind them. If they knew, they were doing a good job ignoring them as they talked about…whatever it was those two spoke of.

Dwalin successfully cut between the group and the pair they were following, arms crossed over his chest and glowering down at them. The tweens cowered before him before making excuses about needing to go home or to the market or a tutoring session.

Once the group was successfully gone, Dwalin turned to Bilbo and Ori, who had stopped to talk to one of the older Dwarrowdams. Dwalin approached them.

“Afternoon, lads,” he said. He bowed to the woman, “Madam.”

“Hi, Dwalin,” Ori said. “Madam Lakin bought some new yarn and was about to show us.”

“ _You_ ,” Bilbo corrected. “I don’t knit.”

“What about your doilies?” Dwalin asked. Ori smirked at him and Bilbo rolled his eyes.

“Those were my mother’s and that was _crochet_ ,” he said. Lakin brought out the yarn and engaged Ori in a whispered conversation. “I never personally crocheted myself. I never had the patience for it.”

“Then pray tell, Master Baggins, what is it you did in your hole in the ground?” Dwalin asked.

“If you must know, I was a landlord. My father’s family had an abundance of land and we rented out other houses to other families who needed the space and were able to pay for it. But mostly I was a scholar and teacher.”

“You should see him with the children. He’s brilliant with them,” Ori said. “I’ve never seen them actually sit down and listen to someone talk for hours on end.”

“I don’t _talk_ for hours on end. We play games more often than you think.” Ori thanked Lakin for her time and they bade her goodbye before heading to Dori’s.

“How do games aid a child in learning?”

“They work better than you think,” Bilbo said. “Hobbits aren’t fond of learning, but Fauntlings love stories. Not much is different among Dwarflings, it seems. I can’t teach them Khuzdul, but I can teach them mathematics, science—which is pretty much just gardening, but they get to play in the dirt, and what child can say no to that?”

Bilbo rambled on about the things he taught to the children in the mountain. He said there weren’t many, but there were far more than he thought there would be. Dwalin hadn’t known anyone this passionate about teaching before, and Balin could be rather passionate in his own way.

They stopped at Dori’s house and Dwalin spied the note wedged between the door and doorframe. Ori pulled it out, and _smiled._

“What is it, Lad?” Dwalin asked. Ori blinked.

“Nothing to worry about,” he said.

“Ori, if someone’s bothering—”

“It’s not like that, Dwalin,” Bilbo said.

“It’s from Bofur,” Ori said. Dwalin blinked. Bofur? What would Bofur be doing leaving notes in doorways for Ori? Oh…

“You’re courting?”

Ori nodded. “Since after the battle of the five armies,” he said, opening the door. “Have a good afternoon, you two.”

“Thanks Ori,” Bilbo said. “You, too. Say hello to Dori for me.”

“I will.” The door closed, allowing Bilbo and Dwalin to make their retreat.

“Is all well?” Dwalin asked him. “No more letters nailed to your door?”

“I don’t think anyone is going to try something of that caliber for a while,” Bilbo said. “But thank you for asking.”

“It’s my job.”

“But you didn’t have to _ask_ ,” Bilbo pointed out. “You could have easily just assumed everything was still all right and gone on your way. You didn’t.”

Dwalin arched a brow. “You’re a friend and companion, Master Baggins.”

“So you’re asking as a friend?” Bilbo asked, smiling. “Though just a moment ago you said checking on my wellbeing was your job?”

“Now you’re twisting my words.”

“Just a hair,” Bilbo said. “You know, it won’t take long for me to make dinner, if you’d like to stay.”

Dwalin rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s not like I’ve anything waiting for me at home. I suppose if you don’t mind me intruding again—”

“You were _never_ intruding, Master Dwalin,” Bilbo said. “If I recall, every time we’ve had dinner together, you were invited. The only time it was an intrusion was when we first met. If I recall, you complimented my cooking and then asked if there was more. After that, you and Balin stole my ale.”

Dwalin winced. Bilbo didn’t show any indication of noticing. “When you put it _that_ way, sounds like we did worse than intrude.”

“I was bombarded with a pack of Dwarves. And you all were carrying the most frightful weapons I swear I thought you were going to eat my food and then rob me blind!”

Dwalin chuckled weakly. That was not his intention when he arrived at all. “I suppose apologies are long overdue.”

“ _Way_ overdue,” Bilbo agreed. “But no worries, I’ve already forgiven everyone for that. Misunderstandings and miscommunications were in abundance that night. I had told Gandalf I had no interest in an adventure that _very_ morning. It wasn’t until later I found that everyone assumed I had known days in advance and was backing out. Ha! Bagginses keep their promises, I’ll have you know.”

They arrived at the door. Dwalin was pleased to find the lawn completely void of even an unwanted enveloped letter. He followed Bilbo inside and looked around the house properly for once while Bilbo cooked. Dwalin recognized several of Bilbo’s belongings that had been shipped from the Shire. From the portraits and books to the carpets and furniture. There were even many of the same knick-knacks that Bilbo had displayed on the mantle.

“I’ve come across some rum since my last visit to Laketown,” Bilbo said. Dwalin looked at him. “Would you like some?”

“I would,” Dwalin said, approaching the dining table, which he now noticed was not the same as the one he had seen before. He wondered what became of that table where the company had gathered that night. Was it still in the Shire? Had it been lost or sold?

Bilbo returned with two glasses and handed one to Dwalin. Dwalin thanked him and they drank. Usually he was often surprised by Bilbo and the way he handled a drink this strong was proof of it. Dwalin’s gaze was drawn to the line of Bilbo’s neck, Adam’s apple bobbing with each gulp. It was a strange image, as the neck was usually covered by the hair in the back and the beard in front. There was no stigma on displaying one’s neck, but somehow, and perhaps it had something to do with it being _Bilbo’s_ neck, the sight seemed almost erotic. His eyes shifted from the line of Bilbo’s neck to the exposed collar bone.

“Not bad,” Dwalin said, tearing his gaze away from Bilbo’s skin to the table as he set the glass down. “You got this in Laketown?”

“Yes,” Bilbo said, setting the glass down. “Believe it or not, they do manage to come up with one thing or other. I’ll be right back: need to check the pork.” Bilbo gave Dwalin’s elbow a gentle squeeze before sauntering— _walking_ back to the kitchen.

Dwalin swallowed. _Get a hold of yourself, you idiot_ , he thought, sitting down at the table and massaging his forehead. Maybe it had been a bit too long since he’d been with someone. He stood and entered the kitchen. Bilbo was in the pantry, bent at the waist and humming under his breath.

Dwalin cleared his throat, ignoring how Bilbo’s trousers shaped his backside. “Need any help.”

Bilbo straightened and turned to him, holding a butter plate. “I’ve got a handle on it. But if you like, you may set the table,” he said, gently biting his lower lip. “The pottery is in the china cabinet back in the dining room.” Dwalin nodded and discreetly fled.

Dwalin took a moment to press his head to the wall and prayed Bilbo didn’t know what he was doing to him at the moment. Dwalin especially hoped it was just him and Thorin’s constant jibes on the last time he’d had a lover. Dwalin considered himself an honorable dwarf and the thoughts he was harboring about Bilbo at the moment were anything _but_ honorable.

He straightened, took a breath, and collected the dinnerware Bilbo had requested. He set them on the table and sat down, arms crossed over his chest. Bilbo returned with a basket of bread rolls and steaming, black beans.

“We’ve still a little time before the pork will be ready,” he said circling around the table and stopping just in front of Dwalin. “And I would like to talk to you about something.”

“Which is?” Dwalin asked.

“What you think of me,” Bilbo said. “I’ve guessed that you wouldn’t know much about how Hobbits court, so I tried to be bold, but it seemed I wasn’t being bold enough.” He bit his lower lip. “Either that or I misread everything and…”

“You’ve not,” Dwalin said. “I like you, Bilbo. You’re a good friend.”

“Just a friend?” Bilbo asked, tilting his head to the side. “I was…um…under the impression there was more to our relationship than that, Dwalin.” Dwalin’s mouth felt dry. What was he to say? _I think you are my other half_ could…be a little too much for Bilbo to accept at the moment. “Ori and Bofur seem to have the impression that you and I are soul mates of a sort.”

“It’s…a sort of legend among Dwarves,” Dwalin said. “That when Mahal made us, he swung too hard and the soul was split in two, so he placed the two halves in two different Dwarves.”

“I heard the story,” Bilbo said. “But I’m asking about what you think. Not what others believe or the stories you grew up on. Do you feel more than friendship between us? Because, to be honest, I do feel there’s more, Dwalin.” He stared at Bilbo. A beautiful, exotic Hobbit, whose virtue Dwalin aimed to protect since others started showing interest in him. Dwalin thought Bilbo was brave and smart and admired that in him. His beauty was merely a bonus.

“I have always felt more for you, even if I didn’t realize it before.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we could have smut in the next chapter, but does anyone rather I not write it?


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there's smut here, but if that's not your cup of tea, you can read to the ~~~ and then skip down to the next ~~~

_“And I would like to talk to you about something.”_

_“Which is?” Dwalin asked._

_“What you think of me,” Bilbo said. “I’ve guessed that you wouldn’t know much about how Hobbits court, so I tried to be bold, but it seemed I wasn’t being bold enough.” He bit his lower lip. “Either that or I misread everything and…”_

_“You’ve not,” Dwalin said. “I like you, Bilbo. You’re a good friend.”_

_“Just a friend?” Bilbo asked, tilting his head to the side. “I was…um…under the impression there was more to our relationship than that, Dwalin.” Dwalin’s mouth felt dry. What was he to say? I think you are my other half could…be a little too much for Bilbo to accept at the moment. “Ori and Bofur seem to have the impression that you and I are soul mates of a sort.”_

_“It’s…a sort of legend among Dwarves,” Dwalin said. “That when Mahal made us, he swung too hard and the soul was split in two, so he placed the two halves in two different Dwarves.”_

_“I heard the story,” Bilbo said. “But I’m asking about what you think. Not what others believe or the stories you grew up on. Do you feel more than friendship between us? Because, to be honest, I do feel there’s more, Dwalin.” He stared at Bilbo. A beautiful, exotic Hobbit, whose virtue Dwalin aimed to protect since others started showing interest in him. Dwalin thought Bilbo was brave and smart and admired that in him. His beauty was merely a bonus._

_“I have always felt more for you, even if I didn’t realize it before.”_

Bilbo grinned and stepped between Dwalin’s legs, pressing their mouths together and threading his fingers in Dwalin’s beard.

He slid his tongue against the seam of Dwalin’s mouth and Dwalin parted his lips to meet Bilbo’s tongue with his own. His hand cradled the back of Bilbo’s head, ruffling honey curls.

Bilbo broke the kiss.

“Food,” he said. “But we will _definitely_ get back to this _after_ dinner.”

He pecked Dwalin’s lips once more and went to retrieve the pork. Dwalin licked his lips, savoring the sweetness that was Bilbo. He tasted like like…strawberries, ripe and sweet.

Even a little tangy.

Dinner was more silent than usual. Not because there was nothing to say.

There was plenty things that could be said if Dwalin remembered them rather than let Bilbo distract him while eating. It was less about the way Bilbo ate—it didn’t change much, maybe…

Dwalin was a little preoccupied with the smoldering gleam in the Hobbit’s eyes.

“Are you usually so bold, Master Hobbit?”

Bilbo grinned. “Not this bold, no. I never needed to be before, but I suppose courting is different for Dwarves and I was a bit foolish not to ask. Though, I get the feeling I wouldn’t have gotten much help.”

Dwalin leaned on the table, relaxing. “Probably not,” he said. “Though I had not known our courting traditions to be secret—some of them are quite obvious.”

“The only thing I noticed about it was gift giving,” Bilbo said. “And even _then_ , hardly anyone tried to talk to me face to face. I really don’t know what that has to say about them.”

“I can assure you you’re better off without them. Better by a _long shot_.”

“Were you jealous, then, Mr. Dwalin?” Bilbo asked, tilting his head to the side.

Dwalin managed not to choke on the rum. He hadn’t thought he was. “Well, as we established, not all of your suitors were friendly. Sorting through them, figuring out whom genuinely wanted to court you and who merely wanted a bedmate was a bit tedious. But before then, or this…yes, I was jealous. Nor do I know if I’m really as worthy of you as another.”

Bilbo’s smile ebbed. “Dwalin, the only one who can decide who is worthy or not for me is _me_. You needn’t worry about that. Besides, I think you’re worthier than anyone who’s tried to court me before, successfully or not. And that cannot be determined if you sit on the sidelines and do nothing but glare at anyone else who tries. Besides, did I not say that if I were to court anyone, I’d be the one to begin it?”

Dwalin’s mouth felt dry. “I do remember that.”

“Good. So far, I think you’re worthier than anyone else I know and _especially_ more than those who have tried to court me so far.”

“Kind words,” Dwalin said, shifting in his seat, trying not to squirm under Bilbo’s gaze. “But what exactly do you have in mind?”

Bilbo hummed, leaning on his elbow. “What indeed?”

_Damn it, Dwalin, you are captain of the guard! Stop blushing like a ruddy teenager!_

Bilbo stood and walked around the table until he stood in front of Dwalin and climbed on his lap and placed his hands on his shoulders. He nipped at Dwalin’s lips with his own and slowly swiveled his hips, grinding down on Dwalin’s arousal.

Dwalin groaned and tightened his grip on the armrests.

Bilbo broke the kiss, tightening his hold on the shoulders.

“Are you trying to make me come?”

“Not _yet_ ,” Bilbo said. He pressed his cheek to Dwalin’s. “I want you to pin me to the bed first, stretch me wide open so I can take your cock. I want you to take me hard and fast, make it so obvious who my heart and body belong to no one would dare contest it.”

“I won’t hurt you,” Dwalin said.

“I know you won’t,” Bilbo sighed. “Dwalin, my dear, brave captain, I trust you with all that I am. I love you. I want you to make me limp tomorrow. I want you to drive me to oblivion.” Dwalin groaned. “Will you do that for me?”

Dwalin gripped Bilbo’s hips, stopping him. He picked him up. “Bedroom?”

“Down,” Bilbo demanded.

Dwalin eased him down and Bilbo led him to the room, locking the door behind him. He pushed Dwalin onto the bed, and discarded his clothes, folding them carefully and setting them on a chair before returning to Dwalin’s side.

~~~

Bilbo climbed between Dwalin’s legs, pushing his knees apart as he reached for the laces of Dwalin’s trousers. He tugged the trousers off and folded them before tugging at the laces of Dwalin’s tunic. Bilbo undid the knot.

Dwalin lifted his arms so Bilbo could push the tunic off him and it joined the neatly folded pile as well. Bilbo climbed back on the bed and straddled Dwalin’s waist, pushing him against the mattress and ground down on Dwalin’s cock.

Bilbo kissed a rune etched on Dwalin’s rib, drawing the symbol with his tongue. Dwalin cradled the back of Bilbo’s head. He moved his lips up to tease a nipple, teeth clacking against the steel ring pierced through the skin.

Dwalin groaned and tugged on Bilbo’s hair. Bilbo lapped at the bud while he rubbed his thumb against the opposite nipple. Bilbo moved away from the bud and kissed Dwalin’s shoulder, petting the pelt of chest hair beneath him and Dwalin released his hair.

Bilbo scooted down Dwalin’s torso to the straining cock still trapped in small clothes. Dwalin gasped as Bilbo’s fingers brushed against the bulge as they unlaced the garment.

“You are magnificent!” Bilbo praised, gripping the base of Dwalin’s cock. “Completely gorgeous!” He gave a couple tugs before pressing a kiss against the tip. Dwalin pushed himself up on his elbows to watch. Bilbo met his gaze and licked his lips. “May I taste you?”

Dwalin nodded and Bilbo licked the head a couple times before closing his lips around the foreskin, tongue pressing into the slit. Bilbo closed his eyes and hummed. He slid further down, taking as much of his lover as he could, and sucked, cheeks hollowing. Bilbo slid back up to the tip, grazing his teeth along the shaft.

He kissed the tip once more before pulling off and pushed Dwalin back down on the bed before reaching for the table and grabbed a bottle of oil. He opened it and coated his fingers in it. Bilbo reached around, bracing himself with one hand on Dwalin’s chest as he worked himself open.

Dwalin swallowed and gripped Bilbo’s hips, fingers digging into the flesh. Bilbo grinned and leaned down to kiss him before continuing with his ministrations. He listened to his moans and the soft pants escaping Bilbo.

Finally Bilbo removed his hand and eased himself on Dwalin’s cock. He shuddered, whining happily. Dwalin licked his lips, gripping Bilbo’s hips hard enough to leave bruises. Bilbo pushed himself up, then eased back down, slowly gaining momentum.

The stimulation sent sparks through Dwalin’s being and he dug his heels into the bed as Bilbo bounced on his cock.

Bilbo leaned down to kiss him and Dwalin wrapped his arm around Bilbo’s shoulders to roll them over. He hooked his hands under Bilbo’s knees and pushed them to the Hobbit’s shoulders before ramming into him.

Bilbo arched his back, gorgeous neck exposed. Dwalin attacked it. It had teased him enough and the mark he aimed to leave on it would serve as a symbol to his claim until he could make Bilbo a proper bead for his hair.

Something silver.

Or green.

So long as it was obvious in all kinds of light.

Bilbo dug his nails into Dwalin’s shoulders, begging Dwalin to be rougher, demanding to be claimed…Dwalin pulled on Bilbo’s hair biting another mark into the skin. Bilbo whined, dragging his nails down Dwalin’s back and meeting each thrust as well as he could.

Dwalin reached between them, gripping Bilbo’s cock and giving it a few pulls. Bilbo gasped, arching into the touch. He gasped as he came, clenching around Dwalin’s cock, bringing his Dwarf to climax.

~~~

Dwalin pressed his face in the crook of Bilbo’s neck. Bilbo relaxed his hands, letting them rest on Dwalin’s shoulders.

“Finally.”

“Finally?” Dwalin asked. “Have I been _that_ slow?”

“Slower, if possible,” Bilbo giggled before kissing him. Dwalin cupped his cheek and Bilbo pressed against it. The heel of his foot slid down Dwalin’s back. “I didn’t expect you to be shy.”

“I wouldn’t say _shy_ ,” Dwalin said, releasing Bilbo’s legs. The fur of Bilbo’s foot rubbed against his thigh. “Reluctant would be a closer word to how I felt—though for reasons I can’t really remember.”

“Oh? So you agree you’ve been a fool?” Bilbo asked, grinning.

Dwalin kissed him and Bilbo hummed. He whined when Dwalin pulled out and nuzzled closer to him, burying his face in Dwalin’s chest and arms wrapped around his torso.

“Stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Dwalin asked. Bilbo relaxed. “Bilbo had others…”

“I’m not exactly _desirable_ in a spouse back in the Shire,” he admitted. “I never had this many people trying to court me before. I didn’t really know what to think of it, but…in the end, I knew I wanted you and I was afraid you’d not want me either. I was afraid that in the end, you’d rather have children—”

“Bilbo, look at me,” Dwalin ordered. Bilbo lifted his eyes to meet Dwalin’s. “I don’t care. There are more men among Dwarves than women and no one—not even us—can tell the difference between us and them unless we get a look at them in just their skin. No one here who had tried to court you cares if you can have a child with them or not. Yes, children are precious to us, but love should never factor into whether or not you can have a babe or not. We don’t marry for the sake of having a family. Many of us do not care for a married life and our women are much the same. Very few desire to be mothers.”

“But—”

“No. You are my One and you have my heart. You’re beautiful, Bilbo, and I am honored to accept your courtship. I do not care if your people did not think you worthy of them. You are more than worthy to me and I would be proud to have you as my husband if we get that far.”

Bilbo kissed him again, breathing shakily. Dwalin returned it, sliding his hands down Bilbo’s sides.


	8. Chapter 8

“You’re in a good mood,” Thorin noted, removing his crown and setting it down before stretching and slumping in his office desk. “Finally nab the Hobbit?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Dwalin said, flipping through one of the documents. He hadn’t gone past the first paragraph and his head hurt already. If this is what Thorin dealt with, he could understand why he’d frequently tried to escape.

“But I do,” Thorin said, pulling the document out of Dwalin’s hand. “And you have more than hinted that you _have_ nabbed him. So at risk of becoming a Dam, what happened, where did it happen, who made the first move, and how does it feel being in a relationship?”

“I’ll get back to you on that,” Dwalin said.

“No! Dwalin!”

“I don’t ask about you and Nori, the least you can do is leave me and Bilbo alone.”

“But you did get together?”

“Yes.”

“ _Hurumab Mahal_!” Thorin shouted. “When are you announcing it—”

“Never,” Dwalin snapped. “You and sister’s Orc-spawn will do everything in your power to embarrass us both! Forget what Nori would do. Or Balin.”

“You know everyone will find out eventually, right?”

“In the meantime, I would like to keep him to myself.”

Thorin smirked. “You do know you can keep him to yourself all you like _after_ we have that celebration. Everyone’s been taking bets. No thanks to you, I owe _Kili_ a tenth of my own share from the quest. That boy’s going to be the richest bachelor in Erebor.”

Dwalin glared at him. “You took bets. Nori’s idea?”

“Balin’s actually. Nori just organized it,” Thorin said.

Dwalin ground his teeth. “I’m going to go have a word with my brother about his bad habits.”

“What does Bilbo say about cookies?”

“I just started courting the Hobbit, Thorin, all he’s got right now is one of my smaller daggers strapped to his belt. Give me a bit more time!” He headed to the door.

“You know you could’ve gotten together with him sooner if you had just admitted that _maybe_ he’d like you!”

“Well there’s a reason he said he’d rather initiate a courtship _first_ ,” Dwalin spat.

Thorin grinned. “You were too thick to notice he was courting you?”

“You try being courted by a Hobbit,” Dwalin growled. “See how far you get till you realize he’s been throwing himself in your lap.”

Thorin’s grin widened, taking a lewd turn, and Dwalin closed the door behind him before Thorin could get another word in. Thank the maker they were as close as they were, otherwise, Dwalin knew he wouldn’t get away with _half_ the things he did or said to Thorin.

Besides, Thorin hadn’t any right to ask about what happened last night between them. Or that morning. He’d gladly take to the grave how amorous Bilbo could be when he wanted. Dwalin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and forcing erotic visions of Bilbo to the back of his mind.

Time and place after all.

For the most part, work was boring—was it odd if he said he missed the days Nori actually ran about causing him trouble? Maybe. It was mostly pushing paper from one place to another only succeeding in making Dwalin beg for a crime to be committed for the sake of having _something_ interesting to do.

He was banging his head against his desk from boredom when the smell of food within reaching distance wafted past his nose. Dwalin looked up.

“Bad day?” Bilbo asked, holding a box under one arm and a bottle of ale in another.

“No, boring,” Dwalin said, sitting up. Bilbo pointed at his forehead.

“You’ve parchment stuck to your face,” he said. Dwalin pulled it off, glaring at the offending paper and reorganizing the stack to set aside. “I’m pretty sure it didn’t commit a crime worth processing.”

“Good, the processing would mean more blasted paperwork.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t seem your forte, love,” Bilbo said, setting a box down.

“Oh Mahal, that’s not—”

“It’s lunch. I don’t have work today, so I figured I’d come by with some for you—unless you already ate.”

“Even if I did, I’d not pass up an opportunity to turn down your cooking, Bilbo.” He spotted Fregar, Yori, and a couple other guards peering around the door to Dwalin’s office. He glared at them and they scurried off. Bilbo looked behind him.

“What were you glaring at?”

“Nosy Dwarves,” Dwalin said, opening the box. Within were four bread rolls and a couple sandwiches.  Two cups were nestled among the wares.

Dwalin stood and pulled a chair around for Bilbo. “Thanks for this.”

“Anything to make a day just a little less boring,” Bilbo said, winking at him. He opened the bottle and poured it in to the cups. “Besides, Thorin kept trying to make me tell him what happened last night.”

Dwalin groaned. “Shall I talk to him?”

“No. Ori booted him out of the library. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone so shocked.”

“Well, they’re as good as brother-in-laws, so…”

“Right,” Bilbo said. “I guess he’s one of the few who actually _could_ give Thorin a piece of their mind.”

“That list is bigger than you think. If you want to see something _very_ scary, I suggest watching him get in trouble with Dori. He tends to look like a sad puppy when he does.”

Bilbo snickered. “I would _pay_ to see that.”

“Oh, the show’s free,” Dwalin said. “You just have to be there at the right time. And be sure that when Dori’s mad at Thorin, it’s likely he’s also mad at Nori. Thorin is just better at looking ashamed more than Nori who usually just tunes Dori out.”

“Well, hopefully I’ll get to see that. Must be entertaining on a dull day.”

“It can be,” Dwalin said. “I think you’ll see there’s more to do in a mountain than you assumed.” He took a bite out of his sandwich.

“I hope so,” Bilbo said. “Thank goodness for my garden and the library, otherwise I think I’d end up climbing walls long before now.”

 _Well that won’t do,_ Dwalin thought, downing the ale. “Are you often bored in the mountain?”

“No more than anyone else. It’s not as _comfortable_ as a Hobbit Hole, but it’s not too bad. And I manage to get outside once in a while. I can’t really complain. The library’s _huge_ though. I wish I could learn Khuzdul, though. I’m speeding through the Westron books far too quickly.”

“I’m sure there could be someone who wouldn’t mind translating our less secret texts for you,” Dwalin asked. “Have you asked Ori or Balin?”

“Both are so busy I’d feel bad asking them,” Bilbo said, tearing at a bread roll.

“I’d not worry about that. Balin tends to find time.”

“Still…”

“And Ori’s a bit of a workaholic.”

“Not anymore he’s not. Bofur tends to pull him out of work long enough to make sure he eats and sleeps when Dori isn’t able to. Even then, he was never as bad as Thorin, who is either working hard or hardly working but never in between.”

Dwalin nodded. That did sum up Thorin lately.

“Was he always…”

“No. During our wandering days, when he was a smith, he was always working nonstop to send money home. Not that there’s much less at stake these days, more, actually, but you know—Thorin!”

 Bilbo spun around to see Thorin closing the door behind him. “Hide me!”

“Are you hiding from Balin again?”

“I’m going blind from paperwork,” he said. “I swear it!”

“I don’t think you need to run away for that,” Bilbo said. “Just take a short break to eat or nap and you’ll be fine. Happens to everyone at the library—though going blind…that’s not a pleasant thought. I’ve had nightmares about losing my sight and my hands.”

“You don’t know Balin,” Thorin said. “Is that food?”

“Get your own,” Dwalin snarled.

“Fine, I’ll go see Bombur after,” Thorin said.

“Or you could go now,” Dwalin said.

“Don’t be like that. You know your brother’s evil.”

“He is,” Dwalin sighed. Bilbo watched the exchange curiously, munching on his own sandwich. “But he’s gotten better since he was a teenager, hadn’t he?”

“Don’t remind me of those days. He was horrid! How many times had he pinned stuff on us?”

“More than I can count,” Dwalin said, stuffing the last of his sandwich in his mouth. Thorin slumped in his seat. Dwalin swallowed. “Why not just go to Nori’s?”

“Because as much as I love him, he’s more terrified of Balin than he is of you,” Thorin said. “I don’t know what Balin did, but whatever it was, Nori is scarred and he will hand me over to Balin without remorse. Granted, it _is_ Balin. Warrior, counselor, scribe, evil mastermind who could give Sauron a run for his money if he wanted…”

“Thank Mahal my brother is not that ambitious.”

“Wow,” Bilbo said. “I never knew.”

“See? You _don’t_ know Balin as well as you think,” Thorin said.

“And he likes you, so he’s nice to you,” Dwalin added. He turned to Thorin. “If you recall, I’ve sold you out to him several times. What makes it worse than Nori?”

“Nori actually would send a raven to Balin with the message. ‘I got a king here for you are you missing one?’ If he wasn’t my One…”

“More like if you weren’t whipped,” Dwalin muttered. Thorin glared at him and swiped one of the rolls. “Oi! That’s mine.”

“For that, I’m taking it.”

“Don’t be a child.”

“But your both acting like children,” Bilbo pointed out, earning glares from both Dwalin and Thorin. He grinned and took a drink.

“You’re so lucky he loves you,” Thorin said.

“At least my One isn’t a renowned thief.”

“Actually…”

“Stealing from a dragon doesn’t count.”

“The Arkenstone does,” Thorin said.

“ _Thorin_ ,” Dwalin warned.

“It saved everyone’s arses, didn’t it?” Bilbo asked snippily. “And at least I’m not foolish enough to threaten the life of someone trying to save _my_ backside. You’re lucky I decided to forgive you, your majesty. I was _this close_ to going back to the Shire no thanks to you.”

Thorin seemed to shrink in his seat. Dwalin didn’t say a word. The whole company knew where the greater fault lied. What was worse was when Nori refused to speak to Thorin for ages after and lots of groveling was involved.

To this day, Dwalin _still_ doesn’t know how Thorin managed to get Nori to talk to him again. Thorin didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t.

“You’re right, I shouldn’t have brought it up,” Thorin mumbled. Bilbo huffed.

Someone knocked at the door and Dwalin admitted them. Yori walked inside, cheeks pale. “What is it?” Dwalin asked.

“Someone broke into Master Baggins’ house,” he said. “One of the neighbors reported it. I’ve already sent some men there.”

Thorin stood straighter and Bilbo looked a bit green. Dwalin gripped the door handle so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“Thank you for telling me, Yori. We’ll be there soon.” Yori nodded, bowed to Thorin, and left.

“Do you think it’s another one?” Bilbo asked.

“It could just be a petty theft,” Dwalin said. “No need to worry.” _Yet_. He helped Bilbo pack up, bade goodbye to Thorin (who decided to go back to work, but demanded to know what they found out), and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Khuzdul~
> 
> Hurumab Mahal=Praise Mahal, equivalent to “Halleluiah” in this context


	9. Chapter 9

The door was wide open and guards were searching for signs of the intruder. Bilbo looked around, trying to find anything that may or may not be missing. He was too shaken to really be able to point anything out of the ordinary out.

Dwalin wasn’t keen on him being put through more stress than he already was under. Instead, he told them to hurry up and perhaps help put the place together. Dwalin pondered different scenarios. Jealous suitor? No. They only just began to court. No one knew they were together yet. So that couldn’t be it.

New suitor? Most likely. Dwalin thought he adequately scared off the lot of them. None of them would dare approach Bilbo now, not with all that had gone on for Bilbo, be it Kazi or something else.

He approached Bilbo and knelt before him. “Bilbo, how about you stay with me tonight? Would that be all right?” Bilbo nodded, staring at his hands.

“Just till he’s caught or…”

“That is your decision, _ghivashel_ ,” Dwalin said. “If you’d rather stay somewhere else—”

“No, I’m all right with staying with you, Dwalin. It’s just…I thought this was over. Kazi’s gone.”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t work that way, Bilbo. It’s not Kazi, true, but that doesn’t mean someone else can’t fixate on you. I hate this, _ghivashel_. Really, I do. You deserve to feel safe.”

“This isn’t your fault,” Bilbo said. “It’s not like I want a gaggle of Dwarves following my every step, mooning over me. It’s actually quite annoying, to tell you the truth.”

“I’m sure it is,” Dwalin said, kissing Bilbo’s inner wrists. “I’ll find whoever did this, Bilbo.”

“I know. I trust you.” Dwalin kissed his hands again and beckoned Fregar, ordering her to lead Bilbo to his house after he’s gathered some spare clothes.

Back at the station, Dwalin made a list of possible suspects. The group of teens who followed Bilbo and Ori the other day were at the top of the list. Beneath that was the word, _coworkers_ , and under that was, _anyone new he might have met or spoken to_.

Yori delivered a list of things that were broken or destroyed—pottery, glass, woodwork…Dwalin ground his teeth. Some of the things listed there were things Bilbo had for years. Decades even.

The pottery, for instance, were the dishes that were passed down to him from his mother. And some of the furniture—such as Bilbo’s favorite chair—was an heirloom from his father. Even his grandfather’s chair was destroyed! Some of the smaller things, like a couple of doilies and some of Bilbo’s scarves, had been stolen.

Dwalin pressed his fingers into his forehead. This person was more deranged than Kazi ever was. Dwalin didn’t like that. How was he supposed to protect Bilbo if he had suitors who’d be so obsessed with him that they’d go as far as to steal his things and even destroy some of it?

Why the destruction anyway? Dwalin ground his teeth. Did they expect Bilbo to be at home? Is that why they destroyed the place? They lost an opportunity to do his Hobbit harm?

“Captain?” Yori said, backing up cautiously.

“Get out.”

Yori fled, closing the door behind him. Dwalin wasn’t going to be bothered for a while. Good. He needed to calm down. He needed to cool off so he could think.

 _Don’t let your relationship with Bilbo get in the way of doing this properly_ , he reminded himself. He’d do this right or not at all. So, first, he needed to calm down.

But it was someone he loved who was being threatened.

How was he supposed to keep calm?

#

Dwalin approached Ori. “Good afternoon,” he said. Ori looked at him and grinned.

“Good afternoon, Dwalin. Day off?”

“No,” Dwalin said. “Actually, I was wondering if anything odd happened around you lately. Gifts, break ins, notes.”

“Like with Bilbo? No. Not unless you count Bofur, but he doesn’t have to break in.”

“True. No, I didn’t mean Bofur.”

Ori turned to him. “Is this about what happened at Bilbo’s? I’ll admit I get a Dwarf or two trying to flirt with me, but usually they back off when I tell them I’m dating Bofur. Miners, you know. They’re stronger than they look. And more volatile than guards, I suppose.”

“No, not really,” Dwalin said.

Miners and guards either got along well or not at all. Dwalin might’ve gotten into a bar fight with Bofur once before the quest. But he couldn’t be sure. There may have also been a time where they shared drinks once or twice between the fights.

“So, you’re safe. Everything’s fine.”

“Yes.”

“But not with Bilbo.”

“I’ll admit that’s weird, but I think it has less to do with Bilbo’s beauty and more to do with that most of his suitors are drawn to him because he’s a Hobbit. He’s exotic.”

 _Yeah, I’m well aware_.

“And most of his suitors were attracted to him because of how different they found him. To them, he’s beautiful and at the same time forbidden. He’s a lot like us, but at the same time, he’s nothing like us. Which is why I think he gets more attention than I or my brothers do—we’re still Dwarves. We’re not interesting enough. That’s what…Kazi, was it? That’s what he liked.”

“How about this new stalker?” Dwalin asked. “What do you think about him? Or her?”

“Hmm…this new stalker knows Bilbo. He or she would need time to fixate on Bilbo before daring to do something as risky as to break into his house and destroy his property. So they met him recently, but not so recently that they’d act without knowing him. Likely he or she is a new friend or coworker of his. And we actually recently hired a few new scribes at the library. The destruction could mean they’re venting their frustration or hiding evidence of something you might’ve missed.”

“So they are someone new but not so new that they had enough time to start obsessing over him.”

“Exactly.”

“Ever think of guard work?”

“My brothers would be appalled.”

“We do need a new profiler. It’s not an active position.”

“I’ll consider it, but I like the library too much. However, I wouldn’t mind moonlighting part time,” Ori said, smirking. Dwalin tried not to cringe. That look reminded him too much of a certain king’s consort.

“Think on it. And thanks. New scribes? Any in particular that really likes Bilbo?”

Ori tapped his chin. “Well…there’s Dras son of Mros, but he’s always seemed harmless. Dedicated too. He’s always helping Bilbo out at the library getting things Bilbo can’t reach even with a ladder. But he was at the library all day when it happened. Except maybe around lunch…”

Dwalin patted his shoulder. “Thank you, Ori.”

“You don’t think Dras would…”

“I can’t be sure at the moment, but I won’t eliminate anything just yet.” Dwalin strode past Ori.

 _Dras son of Mros,_ he thought, the name spinning around in his head.

#

He woke to a kiss on his shoulder and a small hand gliding over his chest. Bilbo pressed another kiss to Dwalin’s skin, this time just over his left breast. That hand drew lower, pressed lightly to his abdomen then back up to his chest. Dwalin sighed.

“The least you can do is not tease.”

“Not teasing,” Bilbo said, propping up on an elbow. “Since when have I failed to deliver? I’m afraid it’ll have to wait till tonight though. We have work in a couple hours.”

“Pity.”

“It is a pity. But at least there’s something to look forward to for tonight,” Bilbo said, pecking Dwalin’s lips and climbing out of bed. Bilbo hissed as his feet got used to the stone. “Dwalin, you should invest in a carpet. The floor’s cold.”

“Or I could get you some hobbit sized slippers,” Dwalin said. Bilbo glared at him as he tied his bathrobe around his waist, messy curls bouncing as he turned his head.

“No shoes. Of any kind. Those things are torture devices. I don’t know how the rest of you stand it!”

Dwalin chuckled and Bilbo left the room, heading into the kitchen. Dwalin got up and slid his feet in his slippers before following Bilbo into the kitchen. Bilbo was bent at the waist, lighting the fire. Dwalin leaned against the wall, eyeing Bilbo’s bottom.

“Perhaps you should take a couple days off. Just until I catch this guy. It could be someone you know and I don’t want to take that risk.”

“I can’t just sit around and do nothing, Dwalin,” Bilbo said, straightening. He turned to him and crossed his arms. “Besides, why would someone I trust want to hurt me? That’s ludicrous.”

Dwalin frowned. “Bilbo, most of the time someone who wishes another person harm is someone they know. Kidnappers are often men or women who know the child they’re kidnapping. Kazi was one thing, but this is an entirely different and far more dangerous situation.”

“But that makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t make sense to you that trust can be broken?”

“No. It doesn’t make sense that someone would gain another’s trust only to try and hurt them.”

“I know it’s odd and you might not want to think of things in that way, Bilbo, but that is often the case. And to be honest, I hope it isn’t someone you know but that would be ignorant and neglectful of me. I am _trying_ to keep you safe. If it’s someone you know at work—”

“It isn’t!” Bilbo snapped. “I refuse to believe that!”

“Bilbo, it is entirely possible that someone you know is trying to hurt you and I can’t in good conscious let you go to work knowing you might be in danger there.”

“But I’m _not_ in danger there.”

“THIS IS NOT THE SHIRE!!!” Dwalin shouted. Bilbo jumped. “It was safer there. I know that. It was different where you grew up, but here, it’s far more dangerous. I see evil everywhere and I will _not_ rule anything out. If I do, it would risk everything I fight for, be it you or the king. Bilbo I am _begging you_ , stay home for a few days. Just until I catch this guy.”

“I won’t hide. I might not be a warrior, but I can defend myself. I’ll bring Sting with me. Would that make you feel better?”

 _No,_ Dwalin thought. “A little bit.”

“Alright, I’ll take Sting with me to work until you catch who’s after me this time.” He went to the pantry, fetching things to make for breakfast. Dwalin sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

He knew Bilbo wasn’t stupid, but _this_ naivety of his was going to only get him in more trouble than it was worth. Naïve and stubborn was never a good combination.

Especially in the face of an enemy this dangerous.


	10. Chapter 10

“I’ll try to come get you after work. If not, Fregar will be here,” Dwalin said.

“All right,” Bilbo said, readjusting Sting so that it didn’t draw too much attention, hiding it under his own scribe robes. “And I’ve Sting in case something happens before. I’ll see you tonight sometime.”

“Aye,” Dwalin leaned down and kissed him quickly before Bilbo entered. He spotted someone behind one of the pillars, who jumped behind it quickly to avoid identification. Dwalin furrowed his brow and approached it.

Whoever was behind it was gone. Dwalin hummed and entered the library. He found Ori instructing a few youths and crossed his arms, waiting for him to finish. Once the apprentices walked off, Dwalin approached him.

“Dras son of Mros, right?” he asked.

“I’d call him suspect number one, yes,” Ori said. “And I figured you’d want this.” He handed a piece of parchment written in a neat, tiny script—tinier than his, anyway. “That would be the list of new scribes all who are under Bilbo’s employ. Unless you’re thinking it’s the grocer or dairy maid, it’s likely one of these five apprentices.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am,” Ori said. “Bilbo’s my friend. If I can help keep him safe, I will. Anyway, that should reduce your suspect pool quite a bit.”

Dwalin grinned. “It does, Lad. Thank you.”

Ori nodded, picking up a few rolls. “I’ve got to get to work, but I hope that will help your investigation, Dwalin.” He walked away and Dwalin scanned the list.

_Throl daughter of Gottra_

_Mordin son of Skorri_

_Dras son of Mros_

_Karstin daughter of Lakin_

_Griraz son of Harkaz_

Dwalin hummed, staring at Dras’ name again. Ori suspected him and while that didn’t mean much as far as police work, Dwalin trusted Ori’s judgment. If Dwalin could chose an apt description of Ori it would be…

Well, if anything, Dwalin would say that Ori was like a wolf pretending to be a dog.

Still, this was great. It was exactly what they’d need. He’d not say Ori’s talent was wasted in the library, but…still, he’d make a great profiler for the guard.

For now, though, Dwalin would go to work and arrange to meet with Bilbo’s apprentices. Once at the guardhouse, Dwalin circled Dras’ name. He whistled, gathering his men.

“I need five of you to bring me these suspects,” he wrote the names Ori gave him on a chalk board. “For now it’s a preliminary interrogation. Nothing heavy just yet.”

“Sir, may I ask how you found them?” Fregar asked.

Dwalin met her gaze and Fregar held her head high. “A new consultant and profiler is undergoing a trial period at the moment. One of these are the men and women he suspects might be after Master Baggins again. I know this consultant and I trust his judgment. Now, all of them work in the library under Master Baggins. Bring them here, we’ll have a short talk, send them on their way. Questions?”

None offered any questions, or complaints or concerns, so he sent them off and was about to join them as well—he wanted to interrogate Dras personally. Why wouldn’t he?—but another guard stopped him.

“Captain, I’m sorry, but, uh,” he held up a stack of parchment. “I really, _really_ am sorry. The king sent this over.”

“Then it can wait.”

“He said he needs it by morning.”

“Was it really the king?” Dwalin asked. “Or was it a ginger with a weird hairstyle saying it was the king. Kind of looked like he was trying to make his hair look like a star? Because if so, that’s not the king. That would be the king’s boyfriend who seeks to give me crap for everything and anything possible.”

“No, Sir. Your brother did saying the king needed these.”

Dwalin’s mouth twitched and he took the papers. _I’m going to kill Balin_! “See, that I cannot argue with.”

“Um, I’m sorry?”

“Just get back to your desk.” The kid scurried off and Dwalin went to his desk, muttering death threats to an invisible Balin under his breath. He stared at the first one.

And stared.

And stared.

“Fuck this,” he said, leaving the papers on his desk. If Balin needed them so bad, he could look them over himself or have Nori do it. Nori should do it if not Thorin.

It wasn’t his job to push papers!

Once back at the library someone was running toward him—a scribe from the looks of it. Fregar rushed after him.

“Captain, a little help!” she shrieked.

Dwalin seized the scribe’s arm and the scribe looked at him briefly. He was blond, the hair on his head pulled in two three-strand braids till the base of his skull where the braids combined into a six-strand braid down his back. Efficient for keeping his hair out of his eyes, but rather distinctive. His beard was looser, with two smaller four-strand braids beginning at his chin. He peered at Dwalin with astonished, brown eyes.

The scribe’s astonishment shifted quickly to anger and he slammed his foot into Dwalin’s hip, startling him enough for his grip to loosen on the scribe’s arm. The scribe is off, running down the street. Dwalin chased after him, sprinting to catch up with his quarry.

The scribe entered the market and overturned a few boxes, cutting Dwalin off.

“MOVE IT!” Dwalin shouted, trying to climb over the boxes. One box gave way under his weight and Dwalin fell. He cursed, pushing the box off. By the time he was over them, the suspect was gone.

Dwalin roared slamming Keeper into a wooden pillar. The hapless merchant squeaked, ducking for cover. Dwalin sighed and grabbed Keeper, wrenching it free from the wood. The merchant poked his head up staring at Dwalin as he marched away.

Fregar, Yori and the others approached Dwalin. He looked at them. “Who was that?”

“Dras son of Mros,” Fregar asked.

“I want him in the guard house tonight,” Dwalin said. “Find him!”

“And the others?” Yori asked.

“Yeah, I’ll talk to them,” Dwalin said. Ori walked toward them, Bilbo behind him.

<What happened?> Ori asked.

<The one you think is after Bilbo made a run for it,> Dwalin answered. <I need a few sketches of him for around the city. I want him ASAP.>

<I can get the best artists on it,> Ori said. <Shall I add a reward? Could give them some incentive to find him.>

<No. That would just get money grubbers lining up spewing shit when a life is on the line. Even sell out their own family if they could. Just make the posters and get them up when you can, Ori.>

<Understood.>

“What does Dras have to do with the investigation?” Bilbo demanded. He crossed his arms and turned to Dwalin. “I think I deserve to know, Dwalin.”

Dwalin met Bilbo’s gaze. “As of now, he’s our prime suspect,” he said.

“That’s not possible. I know Dras. He’s a good kid. Hard worker—”

“None of that means he’s not dangerous, _Âzyunguh_ ,” Dwalin said. “He ran. That’s as good as a confession.”

“Maybe he ran because he was frightened.”

“Because he knows what he’s doing is wrong!”

“But you’ve no proof that he’s the one who broke into my house!”

“Bilbo,” Ori said, “How about you go back to the library for now, okay? Let Dwalin do his job.”

“But it couldn’t possibly be—”

“Bilbo, it could be,” Ori said carefully. “Knowing someone doesn’t mean they aren’t dangerous. Right?” Ori looked at Dwalin for confirmation and Dwalin nodded.

“It’s very possible.”

“But you’ve no proof!”

“Which is the point of an investigation,” Dwalin said. _Why does he have to be so bloody stubborn?!_

Ori pulled Bilbo away, leading him back to the library. Dwalin sighed, massaging his forehead. “I want two or three of you to bring the others in. One of you will come with me to Dras’ house.”

Yori stepped up while Fregar led the others back to the library.

“Is he usually…”

“Bilbo’s smart,” Dwalin assured Yori. “But things are much different where he’s from and that difference has left him a bit…naïve about the world.

Once at the house, Dras’ father lets them in, almost cowering in the corner. Dwalin felt a bit sorry for the old Dwarf and his wife. It wasn’t easy to find out your son is a suspect in any crime. They weren’t the first Dwalin had to deal with.

“Captain!” Yori called. Dwalin approached him and looked at what he had in his hand: handkerchiefs with _BB_ sewn in one corner. Dwalin picked one up and sniffed, recognizing Bilbo’s scent. “Are they Master Baggins?”

“They are,” Dwalin said, crossing his arms.

“Do you still want to speak to the others? They aren’t suspects…”

“No, but they may know something we don’t. Consider them witnesses for now.”

“Yes, Captain.” Yori said. Dwalin looked at Dras’ parents and bowed his head as a way of apology. It wasn’t their fault their son became a criminal. Nor was it their fault that he fixated on Bilbo. Hell, it wasn’t even _Bilbo’s_ fault.

Still, it wasn’t easy leaving them like this. Dwalin was never good at breaking bad news to people. That was Balin’s forte. And Yori’s.

Still, it didn’t matter, who became the messenger. It was never easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the braids I have for on Dras’ head. The picture is actually a child, but the hairstyle and color is EXACTLY what I was thinking. Longer hair, though, and no flower: https://jennishairdays.files.wordpress.com/2014/03/img_7521.jpg 
> 
> ~Khuzdul~
> 
> Âzyunguh=my love


	11. Chapter 11

Bilbo took the news that his things were found at Dras’ house _slightly_ better than when he found out about the quest. At least he wasn’t fainting, though he looked dangerously close to it as he held the retrieved handkerchiefs. “I don’t…” Bilbo quieted and swallowed, licking his lips before he spoke again. “I don’t understand how someone could…”

“I take it these situations didn’t happen in the Shire,” Dwalin said setting a mug of cider beside Bilbo on a side table and took the seat beside him on the couch, arm wrapped around Bilbo’s shoulders. In the kitchen, Dori bustled about (he had offered to come by and cook for them as Dwalin was shit at it and Bilbo was a little preoccupied).

“It…probably did, but I wouldn’t know. I wasn’t exactly desirable there, after all, but…”

“Do you want to go back to the Shire?”

“No,” Bilbo said. “There’s very little there for me now. Everything’s here—or was here until…” He cut himself off again and closed his eyes. “I admit I’m terrified, but there’s very little that I would want back in the Shire let alone anyone to go back for.” Dwalin squeezed his shoulder and Bilbo pressed against him. “I don’t want to leave Erebor. I admit it’s not been _great_ , but I belong here more than I ever did in the Shire. This is my home and I’m not going to be chased out of it by anyone.”

“I promise we’ll catch him, Bilbo.”

“But what if someone else—”

“We’ll handle it the way we always have,” he said. “I _will_ protect you.”

Dori entered the living room. “Time to stop being so cute,” he said. “Dinner’s ready.”

Bilbo stood on trembling legs. “Thank you for helping, Dori.”

Dori smiled and waved it off. “This is nothing. You needed a break after what you’ve learned today. Oh, Dwalin, please stop trying to recruit my brother into the guards. I don’t care if he’s got profiling talents, a job with the guards is out of the question.”

“It’s not like I’m going to make him do field work.”

“ _No_.”

“He’s a full grown Dwarf. He can make his own decisions,” Dwalin reminded Dori. Dori glared at him. Dwalin cleared his throat, remembering it was best not to antagonize Dori. He may be fussy and tiny, but he could easily break Dwalin’s arm if he wanted. “I’ll just shut up.”

“That would be wise.”

#

Dwalin gnashed his teeth.

There had been no sign of Dras, not even a bread crumb, since he went into hiding. Dwalin could yell at his subordinates all he liked. It wasn’t going to affect their luck. He huffed and scratched the back of his head. Dras could be out of Erebor by now. Or he could be lying in wait for Bilbo and Dwalin didn’t like _either_ scenario.

Three light taps at the door was his only warning before the door opened and Balin stepped in. “You know I sent you those papers for a reason.”

“And my One’s stalker is still on the streets. You’ll have to pardon me but your _papers_ , Balin, are _not high_ on my list of priorities right now.”

“I need you to look through them. I wrote a few edicts to the king and they need the Captain of the King’s Guard’s signature for the improvement of security and protection of the people as _well as_ improvement of prisons.”

“You think I care if a few scumbags are better cared for?”

“They’re still people, Dwalin, criminals or not.”

“Balin, I don’t really care right now. I’ll look at them when I have the time but right now, I’m a tad bit distracted. Bilbo’s stalker is still free and I swear—”

“Which makes this _case_ a compromise of interest. It will refrain from having guards whose family and friends are threatened from acting on a case.” Dwalin stared at him. “And you would agree that would be a wise move if you were not busy hunting down this Dwarf. Dwalin, are you really thinking of arresting him or are you going to kill him before a trial.”

“I didn’t last time.”

“Last time you caught him quickly,” Balin said. “And we’re happy Kazi is gone. He can’t hurt Bilbo or anyone else we care for now, but that doesn’t mean that you’ll give this new Dwarf the same treatment. He’s worse than the last, isn’t he? Destroyed a lot of Bilbo’s things? Stole some of his belongings too? Dwalin, Erebor needs objective guards and right now, you are _not_ objective.”

Dwalin crossed his arms. “I’ll look at the papers when I have the time,” he said. “Right now, I need to get out and find the Orc, all right?”

“And when you do what then? You’ll kill him?”

“No,” Dwalin said, grabbing his cloak. “I am tempted to, I’ll admit that, but I’ve more honor and sense than _that_.” He pushed past Balin. “Yori!” he called as Yori approached, gasping for breath. “Anything?”

“There’s a situation at the library,” he said. “Fregar’s there already, but she needs backup.”

Dwalin growled and barked orders for anyone who can be spared to make for the library. As they raced to the library, Dwalin fought down dark scenario after scenario in hopes of keeping calm. The problem was he _wasn’t_ calm he couldn’t keep calm. Blood rushed to his head and it took immense concentration to keep his mind clear all the way to the library. Once there, Fregar saluted him.

“Captain, Dras son of Mros sealed the doors and took everyone within hostage.”

“How did you find him?”

She handed him a letter written in Ori’s script:

> _Hostage situation_
> 
> _Dras_
> 
> _Library_
> 
> _Another exit and entrance accessible from outside only_
> 
> _Eagle tapestry left side_

Dwalin handed the note back. “Yori, you and the others need to open the doors. Fregar, have you a bow?”

“I do, Sir.”

“Good, you’re coming with me.” He strode to the left. “Why didn’t you try to get in?”

“I did,” she said stopping at the tapestry of the great eagles with the company riding on top of them. “I couldn’t open the door. Its needs a stronger Dwarf than I, Captain, or more than one. I feel it’s not been in much use, probably since before the dragon.”

She pushed the fabric back and Dwalin examined the door. He pushed against it, grunting. Fregar joined him and it moved slowly, inching inward until it was wide enough to admit them. Dwalin peered down the corridor, dimly lit, and stepped inside.

“Fregar, get in a position and ready your bow,” he said. “If necessary make it a kill shot.” Someone screamed down the hall and they ran toward it.

“Renounce him!” he heard someone shout. Dwalin reached for Keeper and hid behind a pillar. He spotted Fregar a couple pillars away, her bow and arrow in hand. Dwalin nodded at her and she ventured closer. “Renounce him or I’ll kill her!”

“Dras,” Bilbo said. “Don’t…” Dwalin rearranged his position so that he could see. Bilbo held Sting up, pointed at Dras, who had another scribe in his hands, a dagger poised at her neck. “You have to know you’ll regret this.”

“Why would I?” Dras asked. “All I want is you. Come to me. Renounce that _guard_ and I’ll let everyone go. No one needs to die today. But their deaths will be on _you_ if you don’t do as I ask, Bilbo.”

Bilbo noticed Dwalin, who shook his head. The glance was brief. “I…I can tell you care about me deeply,” Bilbo said. “And I don’t doubt that, Dras, but you can’t _force_ someone to love you. You’re a very helpful and attentive student, but I—” Dwalin shook his head again.

 _Don’t set him off_ , he thought. An arrow flitted past and embedded in Dras’ shoulder. He shrieked and the girl broke free.

“Dras, son of Mros,” Fregar shouted. “You’re under arrest for criminal harassment and false imprisonment,” she said, approaching them. He broke the arrow shaft and slashed the air, forcing Fregar to jump back. Dwalin surged forward, pressing his blade against Dras’ neck. Dras stilled, looking up at him.

“Fregar, I got this. Open the door and let the others in.” She left and Dwalin fisted Dras’ hair. “Drop it.” The dagger clattered on the floor and Dwalin lowered Keeper before pulling Dras up. <You tried to hurt my One,> Dwalin growled. <I will have your beard for this.>

<What makes you think he’s your One?> Dras said. <A brute like you would never understand him or his kindness. His gentleness—>

Dwalin twisted his hair, yanking some strands out. <I’m not the one who destroyed things precious to him.> Fregar returned with the others. <Shackle him and take him to the guard house.>

<And you, Captian?> Yori asked. Dwalin stared at Dras. He swallowed. He wanted to kill him. He wanted to cut his beard off and then his head. He wanted blood.

_Are you really thinking of arresting him or are you going to kill him before a trial?_

Dwalin often hated it when Balin was right. This time was no different. “I’m calling it a day. Lock him in the darkest cell we got, gag and blindfold him. I don’t want to see him if I can help it.” He sheathed Dras and turned to Bilbo, pulling him into his arms. Bilbo shook and gripped his tunic.

“Is it _ever_ going to end?” he asked.

“It will,” Dwalin said, though he knew he couldn’t promise that. He stroked Bilbo’s hair. “And you can always count on me to protect you, _men âzyungâl._ ” He kissed the top of Bilbo’s head. “You’re bravery is always going to amaze me, Bilbo.”

Bilbo scoffed. “Doesn’t make it any less terrifying.”

“I know.” Dwalin kissed him again. “Let’s go home.” Bilbo nodded and leaned against him as they left the library.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the last chapter 
> 
> Might be today, might be next week


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there is a sex scene here and you'd rather skip it, you can go from (~~~) to the next (~~~) which is toward the end.

Bilbo was torn between relief and annoyance at the library closing. It was a necessary move, given what had happened there a couple days earlier, but his resilience was back and he wasn’t too terribly traumatized even if he did have a penchant for jumping at the tiniest thing lately.

Dwalin didn’t like leaving him alone, but Bilbo had practically pushed him out the door the second morning after, telling him to get his ass to work or he’d kick it there.

Perhaps Bilbo hadn’t said that in as many words, but it was heavily implied. But Bilbo, Bofur, and Ori stopped by around the lunch hour. It was almost miraculous to watch them act calm and collected. If Dwalin didn’t know better, he’d have guessed that nothing happened the day before.

And after, Bilbo kissed his cheek and requested he come home as soon as he was able, pressing another kiss behind Dwalin’s ear. Dwalin watched Bilbo leave, curious to what awaited him at home.

He had a new guard take the papers he had managed to get through that day to Balin before deciding to head home, pondering over what he’d find while trying not to get too excited by the more sensuous ideas crossing his mind.

On returning home, he frowned seeing the candles snuffed and the quiet a little too great for his liking. “Bilbo?” he called.

“Parlor,” was what answered him.

Dwalin relaxed and approached the room to see the fire ablaze and Bilbo hiding in front of the couch, on the floor. A tray with cold cuts, crackers, and red wine sat beside him. Bilbo set the book he was reading down and looked at him. The light from the fire cast a glow to his hair and reflected in his eyes.

“Took you long enough.”

“Unlike you, not everyone gets time off after a trauma.”

“Which isn’t fair, if I may say so,” Bilbo said, taking a drink.

“There are exceptions,” Dwalin assured him, casting his cloak on the back of the couch and walking around to remove his shoes and some armor before joining him on the floor. “So, what is this?”

“Mm…nothing much,” Bilbo said, taking a sip of wine. Could be taken as a ‘thank you’ or as an ‘I love you’ or both or neither. I’m not quite sure myself. I just felt like doing something for you. You haven’t slept well the last couple nights.”

“I’m fine,” he assured him and picked up a cracker. Sometimes he didn’t sleep well. It meant nothing. “I’m more concerned about your own sleep.”

“My sleep is only affected by your lack of sleep,” Bilbo promised. “Really, Dwalin, I’m all right. I’m not having nightmares or tossing and turning as much as you.”

Dwalin nodded, making a mini sandwich out of the spread before them while Bilbo sipped more wine. “Are you bored?”

“A bit,” Bilbo admitted, stretching, “but not terribly. I’ve been worse.”

“I see.”

“I ripped up my mother’s garden once. She’d never been angrier with me. That was the result of boredom.”

Dwalin arched a brow. “You’re reputable, well-loved _mother_ got upset?!”

“Easier than you think. Just not so much with me,” Bilbo admitted, stuffing a slice of ham in his mouth. “But that’s just an example and I’d rather not talk about my mother tonight.”

“Fair enough,” Dwalin said, drinking some wine left for him. He eyed Bilbo curiously, wondering what his lover had planned. They munched a little longer until the wine was gone and Bilbo’s cheeks were rosy.

He grinned and leaned forward, pressing his lips to Dwalin’s and Dwalin answered the kiss, gripping the back of Bilbo’s neck.

Bilbo’s hands rested on Dwalin’s thighs and he licked Dwalin’s lips, requesting entrance. Dwalin opened his mouth, letting his tongue tease Bilbo’s as he pulled his lover into his lap. Bilbo giggled, resting his hands on Dwalin’s shoulders.

“Take me to bed, love,” he whispered. “Please.”

Dwalin growled and stood, lifting Bilbo in his arms. Bilbo wrapped his legs around Dwalin’s waist, locking them in place at the ankles. Dwalin carried him to the bedroom and posited Bilbo onto the bed.

~~~

Bilbo bounced on the bed, giggling as Dwalin climbed over him, settling himself between his legs. His hands fisted at Bilbo’s shirt, pulling it up to reveal the soft flesh beneath. Dwalin kissed his stomach, beard rubbing against Bilbo’s pale skin.

The shirt slipped off and Dwalin moved to Bilbo’s breast, sucking a pearled nipple while he stroked the other with his thumb. Bilbo’s nails scratched at Dwalin’s scalp and fisted at his hair.

Dwalin’s hands moved down to in front of Bilbo’s pelvis, unbuttoning the breeches and small clothes.

He kissed Bilbo’s lips before pulling back to remove the other garments barring Dwalin from seeing his lover. His fingers brushed against Bilbo’s length, pulling a soft moan from Bilbo’s throat.

He turned his head to the right, exposing the column of his neck. Dwalin took it as an invitation and kissed the creamy pillar, biting the skin as his hands massaged Bilbo’s inner thighs. Bilbo’s hands slid to Dwalin’s shoulders and he pulled at the thick tunic covering Dwalin’s torso.

“I’m going to mark you, _Mizimeluh_ ,” Dwalin growled against Bilbo’s neck, breath tickling Bilbo’s ear, “So that no one will challenge my right to you again.”

“Yes!” Bilbo gasped, nails leaving crescent moon marks in Dwalin’s skin under the tunic. “Dwalin, please!”

Dwalin bit Bilbo’s earlobe, grinding his hips down, clothed erection rubbing against Bilbo’s member. Bilbo locked his legs around Dwalin’s waist, heels digging into Dwalin’s back.

Bilbo tugged at the tunic. “Off,” he ordered, pulling it over Dwalin’s head and letting it join the other clothes piling on the floor.

He placed his hands on Dwalin’s chest, mapping the pelt of course hair over his chest, along with mapping the battle scars and runic tattoos etched into his skin. His fingers roamed over the hard muscle, built from years of training.

Nimble fingers unfastened the belt around Dwalin’s waist and pulled the laces holding Dwalin’s trousers together, freeing Dwalin’s cock.

Bilbo gripped the base and squeezed. Dwalin fisted the sheets, a pleasure-thick growl in the back of his throat. Bilbo licked his lips and released him.

“Dwalin, on your back, love. Please?”

Dwalin complied, letting Bilbo pull the trousers off him. Bilbo cupped Dwalin’s scrotum, massaging them in his hand. Dwalin watched Bilbo grip the base of his cock again, guiding it into his mouth.

He gave a gentle suck, teasing and deliberate, wicked tongue circling the tip. Dwalin threaded his fingers through Bilbo’s hair, cradling the back of it as Bilbo sucked. Bilbo released his cock, trailing kisses down the girth and back up before closing his lips around the tip and sucked.

Dwalin bucked up, cursing under his breath. Bilbo pulled away, startled. Then he grinned cheekily.

Dwalin fisted his hair, wiping the smirk off Bilbo’s face and pulling him back to him. Bilbo straddled his waist and kissed him, rubbing his cock against Dwalin’s stomach.

Dwalin rolled them over and Bilbo laughed, arms wrapped around Dwalin’s neck as they traded kisses.

“Oil,” Dwalin growled.

Bilbo turned over onto his stomach, reaching for a corked, glass vial as Dwalin pressed heated kisses down his spin. He groped Bilbo’s ass and licked his hole. Bilbo gasped, almost releasing vial. Dwalin licked again.

“I thought you wanted the oil,” Bilbo snapped.

“I do,” Dwalin said. “Keep it ready for me.”

He pressed the tip of his tongue against Bilbo’s hole and pushed inside. Bilbo quaked beneath him, gasping. His hole twitched around Dwalin’s tongue as it slid against his insides. Bilbo fisted the sheets, breathing shallowly.

“Dwalin…” he pants. “Dwalin, please, I’m going to come…Don’t want to come yet.”

Dwalin pulled his tongue out and gave Bilbo’s hole another lick before prying the bottle out of Bilbo’s grip. Bilbo relaxed beneath him, pressing his bum against Dwalin’s cock as Dwalin slicked his fingers before reaching between them, rubbing the pad of his index finger against Bilbo’s entrance.

Bilbo hid his face in a pillow and moaned as the appendage slid inside him. Dwalin pumped his finger in quick staccato movements as Bilbo gasped and moaned beneath him. After a moment, he added another finger, carefully spreading them apart, stretching Bilbo open for him.

He leaned over Bilbo, pressing his chest against Bilbo’s back.

“Does it feel good?” he asked, pumping his fingers roughly into Bilbo. “Does it make your toes curl and the hairs on your neck stand on end? Does it keep you on the edge of coming? Tell me how it feels.”

“Good,” Bilbo said, “It feels like I’m being set ablaze for you. I’m eager for more of you inside me, filling me to the brim and leaving no doubt as to who holds my heart.”

Dwalin pushed a third finger inside. His cock stood rigid, leaking pre-come. He spread Bilbo a little wider and Bilbo spread his legs more, trying to accommodate the additional fingers.

“And who is it that holds your heart, _kurdel_?”

“You, Dwalin. Only you…my beloved Dwarf—Dwalin, please, I need you now!”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t— _oh_ —Dwalin, please, _now!_ ”

Dwalin cursed and pulled his fingers out. He coated his cock in oil and twisted Bilbo around, hooking his hands under Bilbo’s knees and pushing them to his shoulders.

He eased his cock inside, watching Bilbo intently to ensure there’d be no discomfort. Bilbo gasped, head digging into the pillow. Dwalin bit the corner where neck met shoulder as he waited for Bilbo to adjust to the size of him.

Finally, he relaxed, wrapping his arms around Dwalin’s neck, fingers combing through his hair. Dwalin rolled his hips, slowly pumping his cock deeper into Bilbo.

Bilbo’s breathing deepened, occasionally groaning, and whispering encouragement for harsher treatment— for Dwalin to go faster, to conquer.

Dwalin obeyed, adjusting his position above Bilbo so best to meet his lover’s need.

Bilbo’s back arched and he screamed through his release and tensing around Dwalin’s girth, hastening his own, ripping orgasm.

~~~

Dwalin breathed heavily, arms shaking to hold him up, waiting for the shockwaves roiling within his being to vanish. Bilbo lay limp beneath him, quite pleased and sated. He grinned at Dwalin.

“I think dinner’ll have to wait.”

“Forget dinner,” Dwalin said, pulling out of him and lying on his side, pulling Bilbo into his embrace. “We’ll worry about it later.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” Dwalin pressed his face into the crook of Bilbo’s shoulder, drifting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read this story. It took a while to get out here, but once it was, it was easy to get inspired. :)


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